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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of American Fairy Tales, by L. Frank Baum
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: American Fairy Tales
+
+Author: L. Frank Baum
+
+Release Date: January 14, 2002 [eBook #4357]
+[Most recently updated: January 19, 2022]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN FAIRY TALES ***
+
+
+
+
+American Fairy Tales
+
+by L. Frank Baum
+
+Author of
+FATHER GOOSE; HIS BOOK, THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ, ETC.
+
+
+Contents
+
+ THE BOX OF ROBBERS
+ THE GLASS DOG
+ THE QUEEN OF QUOK
+ THE GIRL WHO OWNED A BEAR
+ THE ENCHANTED TYPES
+ THE LAUGHING HIPPOPOTAMUS
+ THE MAGIC BON BONS
+ THE CAPTURE OF FATHER TIME
+ THE WONDERFUL PUMP
+ THE DUMMY THAT LIVED
+ THE KING OF THE POLAR BEARS
+ THE MANDARIN AND THE BUTTERFLY
+
+
+
+
+THE BOX OF ROBBERS
+
+
+No one intended to leave Martha alone that afternoon, but it happened
+that everyone was called away, for one reason or another. Mrs.
+McFarland was attending the weekly card party held by the Women’s
+Anti-Gambling League. Sister Nell’s young man had called quite
+unexpectedly to take her for a long drive. Papa was at the office, as
+usual. It was Mary Ann’s day out. As for Emeline, she certainly should
+have stayed in the house and looked after the little girl; but Emeline
+had a restless nature.
+
+“Would you mind, miss, if I just crossed the alley to speak a word to
+Mrs. Carleton’s girl?” she asked Martha.
+
+“’Course not,” replied the child. “You’d better lock the back door,
+though, and take the key, for I shall be upstairs.”
+
+“Oh, I’ll do that, of course, miss,” said the delighted maid, and ran
+away to spend the afternoon with her friend, leaving Martha quite alone
+in the big house, and locked in, into the bargain.
+
+The little girl read a few pages in her new book, sewed a few stitches
+in her embroidery and started to “play visiting” with her four favorite
+dolls. Then she remembered that in the attic was a doll’s playhouse
+that hadn’t been used for months, so she decided she would dust it and
+put it in order.
+
+Filled with this idea, the girl climbed the winding stairs to the big
+room under the roof. It was well lighted by three dormer windows and
+was warm and pleasant. Around the walls were rows of boxes and trunks,
+piles of old carpeting, pieces of damaged furniture, bundles of
+discarded clothing and other odds and ends of more or less value. Every
+well-regulated house has an attic of this sort, so I need not describe
+it.
+
+The doll’s house had been moved, but after a search Martha found it
+away over in a corner near the big chimney.
+
+She drew it out and noticed that behind it was a black wooden chest
+which Uncle Walter had sent over from Italy years and years ago—before
+Martha was born, in fact. Mamma had told her about it one day; how
+there was no key to it, because Uncle Walter wished it to remain
+unopened until he returned home; and how this wandering uncle, who was
+a mighty hunter, had gone into Africa to hunt elephants and had never
+been heard from afterwards.
+
+The little girl looked at the chest curiously, now that it had by
+accident attracted her attention.
+
+It was quite big—bigger even than mamma’s traveling trunk—and was
+studded all over with tarnished brassheaded nails. It was heavy, too,
+for when Martha tried to lift one end of it she found she could not
+stir it a bit. But there was a place in the side of the cover for a
+key. She stooped to examine the lock, and saw that it would take a
+rather big key to open it.
+
+Then, as you may suspect, the little girl longed to open Uncle Walter’s
+big box and see what was in it. For we are all curious, and little
+girls are just as curious as the rest of us.
+
+“I don’t b’lieve Uncle Walter’ll ever come back,” she thought. “Papa
+said once that some elephant must have killed him. If I only had a
+key—” She stopped and clapped her little hands together gayly as she
+remembered a big basket of keys on the shelf in the linen closet. They
+were of all sorts and sizes; perhaps one of them would unlock the
+mysterious chest!
+
+She flew down the stairs, found the basket and returned with it to the
+attic. Then she sat down before the brass-studded box and began trying
+one key after another in the curious old lock. Some were too large, but
+most were too small. One would go into the lock but would not turn;
+another stuck so fast that she feared for a time that she would never
+get it out again. But at last, when the basket was almost empty, an
+oddly-shaped, ancient brass key slipped easily into the lock. With a
+cry of joy Martha turned the key with both hands; then she heard a
+sharp “click,” and the next moment the heavy lid flew up of its own
+accord!
+
+The little girl leaned over the edge of the chest an instant, and the
+sight that met her eyes caused her to start back in amazement.
+
+Slowly and carefully a man unpacked himself from the chest, stepped out
+upon the floor, stretched his limbs and then took off his hat and bowed
+politely to the astonished child.
+
+He was tall and thin and his face seemed badly tanned or sunburnt.
+
+Then another man emerged from the chest, yawning and rubbing his eyes
+like a sleepy schoolboy. He was of middle size and his skin seemed as
+badly tanned as that of the first.
+
+While Martha stared open-mouthed at the remarkable sight a third man
+crawled from the chest. He had the same complexion as his fellows, but
+was short and fat.
+
+All three were dressed in a curious manner. They wore short jackets of
+red velvet braided with gold, and knee breeches of sky-blue satin with
+silver buttons. Over their stockings were laced wide ribbons of red and
+yellow and blue, while their hats had broad brims with high, peaked
+crowns, from which fluttered yards of bright-colored ribbons.
+
+They had big gold rings in their ears and rows of knives and pistols in
+their belts. Their eyes were black and glittering and they wore long,
+fierce mustaches, curling at the ends like a pig’s tail.
+
+“My! but you were heavy,” exclaimed the fat one, when he had pulled
+down his velvet jacket and brushed the dust from his sky-blue breeches.
+“And you squeezed me all out of shape.”
+
+“It was unavoidable, Luigi,” responded the thin man, lightly; “the lid
+of the chest pressed me down upon you. Yet I tender you my regrets.”
+
+“As for me,” said the middle-sized man, carelessly rolling a cigarette
+and lighting it, “you must acknowledge I have been your nearest friend
+for years; so do not be disagreeable.”
+
+“You mustn’t smoke in the attic,” said Martha, recovering herself at
+sight of the cigarette. “You might set the house on fire.”
+
+The middle-sized man, who had not noticed her before, at this speech
+turned to the girl and bowed.
+
+“Since a lady requests it,” said he, “I shall abandon my cigarette,”
+and he threw it on the floor and extinguished it with his foot.
+
+“Who are you?” asked Martha, who until now had been too astonished to
+be frightened.
+
+“Permit us to introduce ourselves,” said the thin man, flourishing his
+hat gracefully. “This is Lugui,” the fat man nodded; “and this is
+Beni,” the middle-sized man bowed; “and I am Victor. We are three
+bandits—Italian bandits.”
+
+“Bandits!” cried Martha, with a look of horror.
+
+“Exactly. Perhaps in all the world there are not three other bandits so
+terrible and fierce as ourselves,” said Victor, proudly.
+
+“’Tis so,” said the fat man, nodding gravely.
+
+“But it’s wicked!” exclaimed Martha.
+
+“Yes, indeed,” replied Victor. “We are extremely and tremendously
+wicked. Perhaps in all the world you could not find three men more
+wicked than those who now stand before you.”
+
+“’Tis so,” said the fat man, approvingly.
+
+“But you shouldn’t be so wicked,” said the girl; “it’s—it’s—naughty!”
+
+Victor cast down his eyes and blushed.
+
+“Naughty!” gasped Beni, with a horrified look.
+
+“’Tis a hard word,” said Luigi, sadly, and buried his face in his
+hands.
+
+“I little thought,” murmured Victor, in a voice broken by emotion,
+“ever to be so reviled—and by a lady! Yet, perhaps you spoke
+thoughtlessly. You must consider, miss, that our wickedness has an
+excuse. For how are we to be bandits, let me ask, unless we are
+wicked?”
+
+Martha was puzzled and shook her head, thoughtfully. Then she
+remembered something.
+
+“You can’t remain bandits any longer,” said she, “because you are now
+in America.”
+
+“America!” cried the three, together.
+
+“Certainly. You are on Prairie avenue, in Chicago. Uncle Walter sent
+you here from Italy in this chest.”
+
+The bandits seemed greatly bewildered by this announcement. Lugui sat
+down on an old chair with a broken rocker and wiped his forehead with a
+yellow silk handkerchief. Beni and Victor fell back upon the chest and
+looked at her with pale faces and staring eyes.
+
+When he had somewhat recovered himself Victor spoke.
+
+“Your Uncle Walter has greatly wronged us,” he said, reproachfully. “He
+has taken us from our beloved Italy, where bandits are highly
+respected, and brought us to a strange country where we shall not know
+whom to rob or how much to ask for a ransom.”
+
+“’Tis so!” said the fat man, slapping his leg sharply.
+
+“And we had won such fine reputations in Italy!” said Beni,
+regretfully.
+
+“Perhaps Uncle Walter wanted to reform you,” suggested Martha.
+
+“Are there, then, no bandits in Chicago?” asked Victor.
+
+“Well,” replied the girl, blushing in her turn, “we do not call them
+bandits.”
+
+“Then what shall we do for a living?” inquired Beni, despairingly.
+
+“A great deal can be done in a big American city,” said the child. “My
+father is a lawyer” (the bandits shuddered), “and my mother’s cousin is
+a police inspector.”
+
+“Ah,” said Victor, “that is a good employment. The police need to be
+inspected, especially in Italy.”
+
+“Everywhere!” added Beni.
+
+“Then you could do other things,” continued Martha, encouragingly. “You
+could be motor men on trolley cars, or clerks in a department store.
+Some people even become aldermen to earn a living.”
+
+The bandits shook their heads sadly.
+
+“We are not fitted for such work,” said Victor. “Our business is to
+rob.”
+
+Martha tried to think.
+
+“It is rather hard to get positions in the gas office,” she said, “but
+you might become politicians.”
+
+“No!” cried Beni, with sudden fierceness; “we must not abandon our high
+calling. Bandits we have always been, and bandits we must remain!”
+
+“’Tis so!” agreed the fat man.
+
+“Even in Chicago there must be people to rob,” remarked Victor, with
+cheerfulness.
+
+Martha was distressed.
+
+“I think they have all been robbed,” she objected.
+
+“Then we can rob the robbers, for we have experience and talent beyond
+the ordinary,” said Beni.
+
+“Oh, dear; oh, dear!” moaned the girl; “why did Uncle Walter ever send
+you here in this chest?”
+
+The bandits became interested.
+
+“That is what we should like to know,” declared Victor, eagerly.
+
+“But no one will ever know, for Uncle Walter was lost while hunting
+elephants in Africa,” she continued, with conviction.
+
+“Then we must accept our fate and rob to the best of our ability,” said
+Victor. “So long as we are faithful to our beloved profession we need
+not be ashamed.”
+
+“’Tis so!” cried the fat man.
+
+“Brothers! we will begin now. Let us rob the house we are in.”
+
+“Good!” shouted the others and sprang to their feet.
+
+Beni turned threateningly upon the child.
+
+“Remain here!” he commanded. “If you stir one step your blood will be
+on your own head!” Then he added, in a gentler voice: “Don’t be afraid;
+that’s the way all bandits talk to their captives. But of course we
+wouldn’t hurt a young lady under any circumstances.”
+
+“Of course not,” said Victor.
+
+The fat man drew a big knife from his belt and flourished it about his
+head.
+
+“S’blood!” he ejaculated, fiercely.
+
+“S’bananas!” cried Beni, in a terrible voice.
+
+“Confusion to our foes!” hissed Victor.
+
+And then the three bent themselves nearly double and crept stealthily
+down the stairway with cocked pistols in their hands and glittering
+knives between their teeth, leaving Martha trembling with fear and too
+horrified to even cry for help.
+
+How long she remained alone in the attic she never knew, but finally
+she heard the catlike tread of the returning bandits and saw them
+coming up the stairs in single file.
+
+All bore heavy loads of plunder in their arms, and Lugui was balancing
+a mince pie on the top of a pile of her mother’s best evening dresses.
+Victor came next with an armful of bric-a-brac, a brass candelabra and
+the parlor clock. Beni had the family Bible, the basket of silverware
+from the sideboard, a copper kettle and papa’s fur overcoat.
+
+“Oh, joy!” said Victor, putting down his load; “it is pleasant to rob
+once more.”
+
+“Oh, ecstacy!” said Beni; but he let the kettle drop on his toe and
+immediately began dancing around in anguish, while he muttered queer
+words in the Italian language.
+
+“We have much wealth,” continued Victor, holding the mince pie while
+Lugui added his spoils to the heap; “and all from one house! This
+America must be a rich place.”
+
+With a dagger he then cut himself a piece of the pie and handed the
+remainder to his comrades. Whereupon all three sat upon the floor and
+consumed the pie while Martha looked on sadly.
+
+“We should have a cave,” remarked Beni; “for we must store our plunder
+in a safe place. Can you tell us of a secret cave?” he asked Martha.
+
+“There’s a Mammoth cave,” she answered, “but it’s in Kentucky. You
+would be obliged to ride on the cars a long time to get there.”
+
+The three bandits looked thoughtful and munched their pie silently, but
+the next moment they were startled by the ringing of the electric
+doorbell, which was heard plainly even in the remote attic.
+
+“What’s that?” demanded Victor, in a hoarse voice, as the three
+scrambled to their feet with drawn daggers.
+
+Martha ran to the window and saw it was only the postman, who had
+dropped a letter in the box and gone away again. But the incident gave
+her an idea of how to get rid of her troublesome bandits, so she began
+wringing her hands as if in great distress and cried out:
+
+“It’s the police!”
+
+The robbers looked at one another with genuine alarm, and Lugui asked,
+tremblingly:
+
+“Are there many of them?”
+
+“A hundred and twelve!” exclaimed Martha, after pretending to count
+them.
+
+“Then we are lost!” declared Beni; “for we could never fight so many
+and live.”
+
+“Are they armed?” inquired Victor, who was shivering as if cold.
+
+“Oh, yes,” said she. “They have guns and swords and pistols and axes
+and—and—”
+
+“And what?” demanded Lugui.
+
+“And cannons!”
+
+The three wicked ones groaned aloud and Beni said, in a hollow voice:
+
+“I hope they will kill us quickly and not put us to the torture. I have
+been told these Americans are painted Indians, who are bloodthirsty and
+terrible.”
+
+“’Tis so!” gasped the fat man, with a shudder.
+
+Suddenly Martha turned from the window.
+
+“You are my friends, are you not?” she asked.
+
+“We are devoted!” answered Victor.
+
+“We adore you!” cried Beni.
+
+“We would die for you!” added Lugui, thinking he was about to die
+anyway.
+
+“Then I will save you,” said the girl.
+
+“How?” asked the three, with one voice.
+
+“Get back into the chest,” she said. “I will then close the lid, so
+they will be unable to find you.”
+
+They looked around the room in a dazed and irresolute way, but she
+exclaimed:
+
+“You must be quick! They will soon be here to arrest you.”
+
+Then Lugui sprang into the chest and lay flat upon the bottom. Beni
+tumbled in next and packed himself in the back side. Victor followed
+after pausing to kiss her hand to the girl in a graceful manner.
+
+Then Martha ran up to press down the lid, but could not make it catch.
+
+“You must squeeze down,” she said to them.
+
+Lugui groaned.
+
+“I am doing my best, miss,” said Victor, who was nearest the top; “but
+although we fitted in very nicely before, the chest now seems rather
+small for us.”
+
+“’Tis so!” came the muffled voice of the fat man from the bottom.
+
+“I know what takes up the room,” said Beni.
+
+“What?” inquired Victor, anxiously.
+
+“The pie,” returned Beni.
+
+“’Tis so!” came from the bottom, in faint accents.
+
+Then Martha sat upon the lid and pressed it down with all her weight.
+To her great delight the lock caught, and, springing down, she exerted
+all her strength and turned the key.
+
+
+This story should teach us not to interfere in matters that do not
+concern us. For had Martha refrained from opening Uncle Walter’s
+mysterious chest she would not have been obliged to carry downstairs
+all the plunder the robbers had brought into the attic.
+
+
+
+
+THE GLASS DOG
+
+
+An accomplished wizard once lived on the top floor of a tenement house
+and passed his time in thoughtful study and studious thought. What he
+didn’t know about wizardry was hardly worth knowing, for he possessed
+all the books and recipes of all the wizards who had lived before him;
+and, moreover, he had invented several wizardments himself.
+
+This admirable person would have been completely happy but for the
+numerous interruptions to his studies caused by folk who came to
+consult him about their troubles (in which he was not interested), and
+by the loud knocks of the iceman, the milkman, the baker’s boy, the
+laundryman and the peanut woman. He never dealt with any of these
+people; but they rapped at his door every day to see him about this or
+that or to try to sell him their wares. Just when he was most deeply
+interested in his books or engaged in watching the bubbling of a
+cauldron there would come a knock at his door. And after sending the
+intruder away he always found he had lost his train of thought or
+ruined his compound.
+
+At length these interruptions aroused his anger, and he decided he must
+have a dog to keep people away from his door. He didn’t know where to
+find a dog, but in the next room lived a poor glass-blower with whom he
+had a slight acquaintance; so he went into the man’s apartment and
+asked:
+
+“Where can I find a dog?”
+
+“What sort of a dog?” inquired the glass-blower.
+
+“A good dog. One that will bark at people and drive them away. One that
+will be no trouble to keep and won’t expect to be fed. One that has no
+fleas and is neat in his habits. One that will obey me when I speak to
+him. In short, a good dog,” said the wizard.
+
+“Such a dog is hard to find,” returned the glass-blower, who was busy
+making a blue glass flower pot with a pink glass rosebush in it, having
+green glass leaves and yellow glass roses.
+
+The wizard watched him thoughtfully.
+
+“Why cannot you blow me a dog out of glass?” he asked, presently.
+
+“I can,” declared the glass-blower; “but it would not bark at people,
+you know.”
+
+“Oh, I’ll fix that easily enough,” replied the other. “If I could not
+make a glass dog bark I would be a mighty poor wizard.”
+
+“Very well; if you can use a glass dog I’ll be pleased to blow one for
+you. Only, you must pay for my work.”
+
+“Certainly,” agreed the wizard. “But I have none of that horrid stuff
+you call money. You must take some of my wares in exchange.”
+
+The glass-blower considered the matter for a moment.
+
+“Could you give me something to cure my rheumatism?” he asked.
+
+“Oh, yes; easily.”
+
+“Then it’s a bargain. I’ll start the dog at once. What color of glass
+shall I use?”
+
+“Pink is a pretty color,” said the wizard, “and it’s unusual for a dog,
+isn’t it?”
+
+“Very,” answered the glass-blower; “but it shall be pink.”
+
+So the wizard went back to his studies and the glass-blower began to
+make the dog.
+
+Next morning he entered the wizard’s room with the glass dog under his
+arm and set it carefully upon the table. It was a beautiful pink in
+color, with a fine coat of spun glass, and about its neck was twisted a
+blue glass ribbon. Its eyes were specks of black glass and sparkled
+intelligently, as do many of the glass eyes worn by men.
+
+The wizard expressed himself pleased with the glass-blower’s skill and
+at once handed him a small vial.
+
+“This will cure your rheumatism,” he said.
+
+“But the vial is empty!” protested the glass-blower.
+
+“Oh, no; there is one drop of liquid in it,” was the wizard’s reply.
+
+“Will one drop cure my rheumatism?” inquired the glass-blower, in
+wonder.
+
+“Most certainly. That is a marvelous remedy. The one drop contained in
+the vial will cure instantly any kind of disease ever known to
+humanity. Therefore it is especially good for rheumatism. But guard it
+well, for it is the only drop of its kind in the world, and I’ve
+forgotten the recipe.”
+
+“Thank you,” said the glass-blower, and went back to his room.
+
+Then the wizard cast a wizzy spell and mumbled several very learned
+words in the wizardese language over the glass dog. Whereupon the
+little animal first wagged its tail from side to side, then winked his
+left eye knowingly, and at last began barking in a most frightful
+manner—that is, when you stop to consider the noise came from a pink
+glass dog. There is something almost astonishing in the magic arts of
+wizards; unless, of course, you know how to do the things yourself,
+when you are not expected to be surprised at them.
+
+The wizard was as delighted as a school teacher at the success of his
+spell, although he was not astonished. Immediately he placed the dog
+outside his door, where it would bark at anyone who dared knock and so
+disturb the studies of its master.
+
+The glass-blower, on returning to his room, decided not to use the one
+drop of wizard cure-all just then.
+
+“My rheumatism is better to-day,” he reflected, “and I will be wise to
+save the medicine for a time when I am very ill, when it will be of
+more service to me.”
+
+So he placed the vial in his cupboard and went to work blowing more
+roses out of glass. Presently he happened to think the medicine might
+not keep, so he started to ask the wizard about it. But when he reached
+the door the glass dog barked so fiercely that he dared not knock, and
+returned in great haste to his own room. Indeed, the poor man was quite
+upset at so unfriendly a reception from the dog he had himself so
+carefully and skillfully made.
+
+The next morning, as he read his newspaper, he noticed an article
+stating that the beautiful Miss Mydas, the richest young lady in town,
+was very ill, and the doctors had given up hope of her recovery.
+
+The glass-blower, although miserably poor, hard-working and homely of
+feature, was a man of ideas. He suddenly recollected his precious
+medicine, and determined to use it to better advantage than relieving
+his own ills. He dressed himself in his best clothes, brushed his hair
+and combed his whiskers, washed his hands and tied his necktie,
+blackened his shoes and sponged his vest, and then put the vial of
+magic cure-all in his pocket. Next he locked his door, went downstairs
+and walked through the streets to the grand mansion where the wealthy
+Miss Mydas resided.
+
+The butler opened the door and said:
+
+“No soap, no chromos, no vegetables, no hair oil, no books, no baking
+powder. My young lady is dying and we’re well supplied for the
+funeral.”
+
+The glass-blower was grieved at being taken for a peddler.
+
+“My friend,” he began, proudly; but the butler interrupted him, saying:
+
+“No tombstones, either; there’s a family graveyard and the monument’s
+built.”
+
+“The graveyard won’t be needed if you will permit me to speak,” said
+the glass-blower.
+
+“No doctors, sir; they’ve given up my young lady, and she’s given up
+the doctors,” continued the butler, calmly.
+
+“I’m no doctor,” returned the glass-blower.
+
+“Nor are the others. But what is your errand?”
+
+“I called to cure your young lady by means of a magical compound.”
+
+“Step in, please, and take a seat in the hall. I’ll speak to the
+housekeeper,” said the butler, more politely.
+
+So he spoke to the housekeeper and the housekeeper mentioned the matter
+to the steward and the steward consulted the chef and the chef kissed
+the lady’s maid and sent her to see the stranger. Thus are the very
+wealthy hedged around with ceremony, even when dying.
+
+When the lady’s maid heard from the glass-blower that he had a medicine
+which would cure her mistress, she said:
+
+“I’m glad you came.”
+
+“But,” said he, “if I restore your mistress to health she must marry
+me.”
+
+“I’ll make inquiries and see if she’s willing,” answered the maid, and
+went at once to consult Miss Mydas.
+
+The young lady did not hesitate an instant.
+
+“I’d marry any old thing rather than die!” she cried. “Bring him here
+at once!”
+
+So the glass-blower came, poured the magic drop into a little water,
+gave it to the patient, and the next minute Miss Mydas was as well as
+she had ever been in her life.
+
+“Dear me!” she exclaimed; “I’ve an engagement at the Fritters’
+reception to-night. Bring my pearl-colored silk, Marie, and I will
+begin my toilet at once. And don’t forget to cancel the order for the
+funeral flowers and your mourning gown.”
+
+“But, Miss Mydas,” remonstrated the glass-blower, who stood by, “you
+promised to marry me if I cured you.”
+
+“I know,” said the young lady, “but we must have time to make proper
+announcement in the society papers and have the wedding cards engraved.
+Call to-morrow and we’ll talk it over.”
+
+The glass-blower had not impressed her favorably as a husband, and she
+was glad to find an excuse for getting rid of him for a time. And she
+did not want to miss the Fritters’ reception.
+
+Yet the man went home filled with joy; for he thought his stratagem had
+succeeded and he was about to marry a rich wife who would keep him in
+luxury forever afterward.
+
+The first thing he did on reaching his room was to smash his
+glass-blowing tools and throw them out of the window.
+
+He then sat down to figure out ways of spending his wife’s money.
+
+The following day he called upon Miss Mydas, who was reading a novel
+and eating chocolate creams as happily as if she had never been ill in
+her life.
+
+“Where did you get the magic compound that cured me?” she asked.
+
+“From a learned wizard,” said he; and then, thinking it would interest
+her, he told how he had made the glass dog for the wizard, and how it
+barked and kept everybody from bothering him.
+
+“How delightful!” she said. “I’ve always wanted a glass dog that could
+bark.”
+
+“But there is only one in the world,” he answered, “and it belongs to
+the wizard.”
+
+“You must buy it for me,” said the lady.
+
+“The wizard cares nothing for money,” replied the glass-blower.
+
+“Then you must steal it for me,” she retorted. “I can never live
+happily another day unless I have a glass dog that can bark.”
+
+The glass-blower was much distressed at this, but said he would see
+what he could do. For a man should always try to please his wife, and
+Miss Mydas has promised to marry him within a week.
+
+On his way home he purchased a heavy sack, and when he passed the
+wizard’s door and the pink glass dog ran out to bark at him he threw
+the sack over the dog, tied the opening with a piece of twine, and
+carried him away to his own room.
+
+The next day he sent the sack by a messenger boy to Miss Mydas, with
+his compliments, and later in the afternoon he called upon her in
+person, feeling quite sure he would be received with gratitude for
+stealing the dog she so greatly desired.
+
+But when he came to the door and the butler opened it, what was his
+amazement to see the glass dog rush out and begin barking at him
+furiously.
+
+“Call off your dog,” he shouted, in terror.
+
+“I can’t, sir,” answered the butler. “My young lady has ordered the
+glass dog to bark whenever you call here. You’d better look out, sir,”
+he added, “for if it bites you, you may have glassophobia!”
+
+This so frightened the poor glass-blower that he went away hurriedly.
+But he stopped at a drug store and put his last dime in the telephone
+box so he could talk to Miss Mydas without being bitten by the dog.
+
+“Give me Pelf 6742!” he called.
+
+“Hello! What is it?” said a voice.
+
+“I want to speak with Miss Mydas,” said the glass-blower.
+
+Presently a sweet voice said: “This is Miss Mydas. What is it?”
+
+“Why have you treated me so cruelly and set the glass dog on me?” asked
+the poor fellow.
+
+“Well, to tell the truth,” said the lady, “I don’t like your looks.
+Your cheeks are pale and baggy, your hair is coarse and long, your eyes
+are small and red, your hands are big and rough, and you are
+bow-legged.”
+
+“But I can’t help my looks!” pleaded the glass-blower; “and you really
+promised to marry me.”
+
+“If you were better looking I’d keep my promise,” she returned. “But
+under the circumstances you are no fit mate for me, and unless you keep
+away from my mansion I shall set my glass dog on you!” Then she dropped
+the ’phone and would have nothing more to say.
+
+The miserable glass-blower went home with a heart bursting with
+disappointment and began tying a rope to the bedpost by which to hang
+himself.
+
+Some one knocked at the door, and, upon opening it, he saw the wizard.
+
+“I’ve lost my dog,” he announced.
+
+“Have you, indeed?” replied the glass-blower tying a knot in the rope.
+
+“Yes; some one has stolen him.”
+
+“That’s too bad,” declared the glass-blower, indifferently.
+
+“You must make me another,” said the wizard.
+
+“But I cannot; I’ve thrown away my tools.”
+
+“Then what shall I do?” asked the wizard.
+
+“I do not know, unless you offer a reward for the dog.”
+
+“But I have no money,” said the wizard.
+
+“Offer some of your compounds, then,” suggested the glass-blower, who
+was making a noose in the rope for his head to go through.
+
+“The only thing I can spare,” replied the wizard, thoughtfully, “is a
+Beauty Powder.”
+
+“What!” cried the glass-blower, throwing down the rope, “have you
+really such a thing?”
+
+“Yes, indeed. Whoever takes the powder will become the most beautiful
+person in the world.”
+
+“If you will offer that as a reward,” said the glass-blower, eagerly,
+“I’ll try to find the dog for you, for above everything else I long to
+be beautiful.”
+
+“But I warn you the beauty will only be skin deep,” said the wizard.
+
+“That’s all right,” replied the happy glass-blower; “when I lose my
+skin I shan’t care to remain beautiful.”
+
+“Then tell me where to find my dog and you shall have the powder,”
+promised the wizard.
+
+So the glass-blower went out and pretended to search, and by-and-by he
+returned and said:
+
+“I’ve discovered the dog. You will find him in the mansion of Miss
+Mydas.”
+
+The wizard went at once to see if this were true, and, sure enough, the
+glass dog ran out and began barking at him. Then the wizard spread out
+his hands and chanted a magic spell which sent the dog fast asleep,
+when he picked him up and carried him to his own room on the top floor
+of the tenement house.
+
+Afterward he carried the Beauty Powder to the glass-blower as a reward,
+and the fellow immediately swallowed it and became the most beautiful
+man in the world.
+
+The next time he called upon Miss Mydas there was no dog to bark at
+him, and when the young lady saw him she fell in love with his beauty
+at once.
+
+“If only you were a count or a prince,” she sighed, “I’d willingly
+marry you.”
+
+“But I am a prince,” he answered; “the Prince of Dogblowers.”
+
+“Ah!” said she; “then if you are willing to accept an allowance of four
+dollars a week I’ll order the wedding cards engraved.”
+
+The man hesitated, but when he thought of the rope hanging from his
+bedpost he consented to the terms.
+
+So they were married, and the bride was very jealous of her husband’s
+beauty and led him a dog’s life. So he managed to get into debt and
+made her miserable in turn.
+
+
+As for the glass dog, the wizard set him barking again by means of his
+wizardness and put him outside his door. I suppose he is there yet, and
+am rather sorry, for I should like to consult the wizard about the
+moral to this story.
+
+
+
+
+THE QUEEN OF QUOK
+
+
+A king once died, as kings are apt to do, being as liable to shortness
+of breath as other mortals.
+
+It was high time this king abandoned his earth life, for he had lived
+in a sadly extravagant manner, and his subjects could spare him without
+the slightest inconvenience.
+
+His father had left him a full treasury, both money and jewels being in
+abundance. But the foolish king just deceased had squandered every
+penny in riotous living. He had then taxed his subjects until most of
+them became paupers, and this money vanished in more riotous living.
+Next he sold all the grand old furniture in the palace; all the silver
+and gold plate and bric-a-brac; all the rich carpets and furnishings
+and even his own kingly wardrobe, reserving only a soiled and
+moth-eaten ermine robe to fold over his threadbare raiment. And he
+spent the money in further riotous living.
+
+Don’t ask me to explain what riotous living is. I only know, from
+hearsay, that it is an excellent way to get rid of money. And so this
+spendthrift king found it.
+
+He now picked all the magnificent jewels from this kingly crown and
+from the round ball on the top of his scepter, and sold them and spent
+the money. Riotous living, of course. But at last he was at the end of
+his resources. He couldn’t sell the crown itself, because no one but
+the king had the right to wear it. Neither could he sell the royal
+palace, because only the king had the right to live there.
+
+So, finally, he found himself reduced to a bare palace, containing only
+a big mahogany bedstead that he slept in, a small stool on which he sat
+to pull off his shoes and the moth-eaten ermine robe.
+
+In this straight he was reduced to the necessity of borrowing an
+occasional dime from his chief counselor, with which to buy a ham
+sandwich. And the chief counselor hadn’t many dimes. One who counseled
+his king so foolishly was likely to ruin his own prospects as well.
+
+So the king, having nothing more to live for, died suddenly and left a
+ten-year-old son to inherit the dismantled kingdom, the moth-eaten robe
+and the jewel-stripped crown.
+
+No one envied the child, who had scarcely been thought of until he
+became king himself. Then he was recognized as a personage of some
+importance, and the politicians and hangers-on, headed by the chief
+counselor of the kingdom, held a meeting to determine what could be
+done for him.
+
+These folk had helped the old king to live riotously while his money
+lasted, and now they were poor and too proud to work. So they tried to
+think of a plan that would bring more money into the little king’s
+treasury, where it would be handy for them to help themselves.
+
+After the meeting was over the chief counselor came to the young king,
+who was playing peg-top in the courtyard, and said:
+
+“Your majesty, we have thought of a way to restore your kingdom to its
+former power and magnificence.”
+
+“All right,” replied his majesty, carelessly. “How will you do it?”
+
+“By marrying you to a lady of great wealth,” replied the counselor.
+
+“Marrying me!” cried the king. “Why, I am only ten years old!”
+
+“I know; it is to be regretted. But your majesty will grow older, and
+the affairs of the kingdom demand that you marry a wife.”
+
+“Can’t I marry a mother, instead?” asked the poor little king, who had
+lost his mother when a baby.
+
+“Certainly not,” declared the counselor. “To marry a mother would be
+illegal; to marry a wife is right and proper.”
+
+“Can’t you marry her yourself?” inquired his majesty, aiming his
+peg-top at the chief counselor’s toe, and laughing to see how he jumped
+to escape it.
+
+“Let me explain,” said the other. “You haven’t a penny in the world,
+but you have a kingdom. There are many rich women who would be glad to
+give their wealth in exchange for a queen’s coronet—even if the king is
+but a child. So we have decided to advertise that the one who bids the
+highest shall become the queen of Quok.”
+
+“If I must marry at all,” said the king, after a moment’s thought, “I
+prefer to marry Nyana, the armorer’s daughter.”
+
+“She is too poor,” replied the counselor.
+
+“Her teeth are pearls, her eyes are amethysts, and her hair is gold,”
+declared the little king.
+
+“True, your majesty. But consider that your wife’s wealth must be used.
+How would Nyana look after you have pulled her teeth of pearls, plucked
+out her amethyst eyes and shaved her golden head?”
+
+The boy shuddered.
+
+“Have your own way,” he said, despairingly. “Only let the lady be as
+dainty as possible and a good playfellow.”
+
+“We shall do our best,” returned the chief counselor, and went away to
+advertise throughout the neighboring kingdoms for a wife for the boy
+king of Quok.
+
+There were so many applicants for the privilege of marrying the little
+king that it was decided to put him up at auction, in order that the
+largest possible sum of money should be brought into the kingdom. So,
+on the day appointed, the ladies gathered at the palace from all the
+surrounding kingdoms—from Bilkon, Mulgravia, Junkum and even as far
+away as the republic of Macvelt.
+
+The chief counselor came to the palace early in the morning and had the
+king’s face washed and his hair combed; and then he padded the inside
+of the crown with old newspapers to make it small enough to fit his
+majesty’s head. It was a sorry looking crown, having many big and
+little holes in it where the jewels had once been; and it had been
+neglected and knocked around until it was quite battered and tarnished.
+Yet, as the counselor said, it was the king’s crown, and it was quite
+proper he should wear it on the solemn occasion of his auction.
+
+Like all boys, be they kings or paupers, his majesty had torn and
+soiled his one suit of clothes, so that they were hardly presentable;
+and there was no money to buy new ones. Therefore the counselor wound
+the old ermine robe around the king and sat him upon the stool in the
+middle of the otherwise empty audience chamber.
+
+And around him stood all the courtiers and politicians and hangers-on
+of the kingdom, consisting of such people as were too proud or lazy to
+work for a living. There was a great number of them, you may be sure,
+and they made an imposing appearance.
+
+Then the doors of the audience chamber were thrown open, and the
+wealthy ladies who aspired to being queen of Quok came trooping in. The
+king looked them over with much anxiety, and decided they were each and
+all old enough to be his grandmother, and ugly enough to scare away the
+crows from the royal cornfields. After which he lost interest in them.
+
+But the rich ladies never looked at the poor little king squatting upon
+his stool. They gathered at once about the chief counselor, who acted
+as auctioneer.
+
+“How much am I offered for the coronet of the queen of Quok?” asked the
+counselor, in a loud voice.
+
+“Where is the coronet?” inquired a fussy old lady who had just buried
+her ninth husband and was worth several millions.
+
+“There isn’t any coronet at present,” explained the chief counselor,
+“but whoever bids highest will have the right to wear one, and she can
+then buy it.”
+
+“Oh,” said the fussy old lady, “I see.” Then she added: “I’ll bid
+fourteen dollars.”
+
+“Fourteen thousand dollars!” cried a sour-looking woman who was thin
+and tall and had wrinkles all over her skin—“like a frosted apple,” the
+king thought.
+
+The bidding now became fast and furious, and the poverty-stricken
+courtiers brightened up as the sum began to mount into the millions.
+
+“He’ll bring us a very pretty fortune, after all,” whispered one to his
+comrade, “and then we shall have the pleasure of helping him spend it.”
+
+The king began to be anxious. All the women who looked at all
+kind-hearted or pleasant had stopped bidding for lack of money, and the
+slender old dame with the wrinkles seemed determined to get the coronet
+at any price, and with it the boy husband. This ancient creature
+finally became so excited that her wig got crosswise of her head and
+her false teeth kept slipping out, which horrified the little king
+greatly; but she would not give up.
+
+At last the chief counselor ended the auction by crying out:
+
+“Sold to Mary Ann Brodjinsky de la Porkus for three million, nine
+hundred thousand, six hundred and twenty-four dollars and sixteen
+cents!” And the sour-looking old woman paid the money in cash and on
+the spot, which proves this is a fairy story.
+
+The king was so disturbed at the thought that he must marry this
+hideous creature that he began to wail and weep; whereupon the woman
+boxed his ears soundly. But the counselor reproved her for punishing
+her future husband in public, saying:
+
+“You are not married yet. Wait until to-morrow, after the wedding takes
+place. Then you can abuse him as much as you wish. But at present we
+prefer to have people think this is a love match.”
+
+The poor king slept but little that night, so filled was he with terror
+of his future wife. Nor could he get the idea out of his head that he
+preferred to marry the armorer’s daughter, who was about his own age.
+He tossed and tumbled around upon his hard bed until the moonlight came
+in at the window and lay like a great white sheet upon the bare floor.
+Finally, in turning over for the hundredth time, his hand struck
+against a secret spring in the headboard of the big mahogany bedstead,
+and at once, with a sharp click, a panel flew open.
+
+The noise caused the king to look up, and, seeing the open panel, he
+stood upon tiptoe, and, reaching within, drew out a folded paper. It
+had several leaves fastened together like a book, and upon the first
+page was written:
+
+“When the king is in trouble
+This leaf he must double
+And set it on fire
+To obtain his desire.”
+
+
+This was not very good poetry, but when the king had spelled it out in
+the moonlight he was filled with joy.
+
+“There’s no doubt about my being in trouble,” he exclaimed; “so I’ll
+burn it at once, and see what happens.”
+
+He tore off the leaf and put the rest of the book in its secret hiding
+place. Then, folding the paper double, he placed it on the top of his
+stool, lighted a match and set fire to it.
+
+It made a horrid smudge for so small a paper, and the king sat on the
+edge of the bed and watched it eagerly.
+
+When the smoke cleared away he was surprised to see, sitting upon the
+stool, a round little man, who, with folded arms and crossed legs, sat
+calmly facing the king and smoking a black briarwood pipe.
+
+“Well, here I am,” said he.
+
+“So I see,” replied the little king. “But how did you get here?”
+
+“Didn’t you burn the paper?” demanded the round man, by way of answer.
+
+“Yes, I did,” acknowledged the king.
+
+“Then you are in trouble, and I’ve come to help you out of it. I’m the
+Slave of the Royal Bedstead.”
+
+“Oh!” said the king. “I didn’t know there was one.”
+
+“Neither did your father, or he would not have been so foolish as to
+sell everything he had for money. By the way, it’s lucky for you he did
+not sell this bedstead. Now, then, what do you want?”
+
+“I’m not sure what I want,” replied the king; “but I know what I don’t
+want, and that is the old woman who is going to marry me.”
+
+“That’s easy enough,” said the Slave of the Royal Bedstead. “All you
+need do is to return her the money she paid the chief counselor and
+declare the match off. Don’t be afraid. You are the king, and your word
+is law.”
+
+“To be sure,” said the majesty. “But I am in great need of money. How
+am I going to live if the chief counselor returns to Mary Ann
+Brodjinski her millions?”
+
+“Phoo! that’s easy enough,” again answered the man, and, putting his
+hand in his pocket, he drew out and tossed to the king an old-fashioned
+leather purse. “Keep that with you,” said he, “and you will always be
+rich, for you can take out of the purse as many twenty-five-cent silver
+pieces as you wish, one at a time. No matter how often you take one
+out, another will instantly appear in its place within the purse.”
+
+“Thank you,” said the king, gratefully. “You have rendered me a rare
+favor; for now I shall have money for all my needs and will not be
+obliged to marry anyone. Thank you a thousand times!”
+
+“Don’t mention it,” answered the other, puffing his pipe slowly and
+watching the smoke curl into the moonlight. “Such things are easy to
+me. Is that all you want?”
+
+“All I can think of just now,” returned the king.
+
+“Then, please close that secret panel in the bedstead,” said the man;
+“the other leaves of the book may be of use to you some time.”
+
+The boy stood upon the bed as before and, reaching up, closed the
+opening so that no one else could discover it. Then he turned to face
+his visitor, but the Slave of the Royal Bedstead had disappeared.
+
+“I expected that,” said his majesty; “yet I am sorry he did not wait to
+say good-by.”
+
+With a lightened heart and a sense of great relief the boy king placed
+the leathern purse underneath his pillow, and climbing into bed again
+slept soundly until morning.
+
+When the sun rose his majesty rose also, refreshed and comforted, and
+the first thing he did was to send for the chief counselor.
+
+That mighty personage arrived looking glum and unhappy, but the boy was
+too full of his own good fortune to notice it. Said he:
+
+“I have decided not to marry anyone, for I have just come into a
+fortune of my own. Therefore I command you return to that old woman the
+money she has paid you for the right to wear the coronet of the queen
+of Quok. And make public declaration that the wedding will not take
+place.”
+
+Hearing this the counselor began to tremble, for he saw the young king
+had decided to reign in earnest; and he looked so guilty that his
+majesty inquired:
+
+“Well! what is the matter now?”
+
+“Sire,” replied the wretch, in a shaking voice, “I cannot return the
+woman her money, for I have lost it!”
+
+“Lost it!” cried the king, in mingled astonishment and anger.
+
+“Even so, your majesty. On my way home from the auction last night I
+stopped at the drug store to get some potash lozenges for my throat,
+which was dry and hoarse with so much loud talking; and your majesty
+will admit it was through my efforts the woman was induced to pay so
+great a price. Well, going into the drug store I carelessly left the
+package of money lying on the seat of my carriage, and when I came out
+again it was gone. Nor was the thief anywhere to be seen.”
+
+“Did you call the police?” asked the king.
+
+“Yes, I called; but they were all on the next block, and although they
+have promised to search for the robber I have little hope they will
+ever find him.”
+
+The king sighed.
+
+“What shall we do now?” he asked.
+
+“I fear you must marry Mary Ann Brodjinski,” answered the chief
+counselor; “unless, indeed, you order the executioner to cut her head
+off.”
+
+“That would be wrong,” declared the king. “The woman must not be
+harmed. And it is just that we return her money, for I will not marry
+her under any circumstances.”
+
+“Is that private fortune you mentioned large enough to repay her?”
+asked the counselor.
+
+“Why, yes,” said the king, thoughtfully, “but it will take some time to
+do it, and that shall be your task. Call the woman here.”
+
+The counselor went in search of Mary Ann, who, when she heard she was
+not to become a queen, but would receive her money back, flew into a
+violent passion and boxed the chief counselor’s ears so viciously that
+they stung for nearly an hour. But she followed him into the king’s
+audience chamber, where she demanded her money in a loud voice,
+claiming as well the interest due upon it over night.
+
+“The counselor has lost your money,” said the boy king, “but he shall
+pay you every penny out of my own private purse. I fear, however, you
+will be obliged to take it in small change.”
+
+“That will not matter,” she said, scowling upon the counselor as if she
+longed to reach his ears again; “I don’t care how small the change is
+so long as I get every penny that belongs to me, and the interest.
+Where is it?”
+
+“Here,” answered the king, handing the counselor the leathern purse.
+“It is all in silver quarters, and they must be taken from the purse
+one at a time; but there will be plenty to pay your demands, and to
+spare.”
+
+So, there being no chairs, the counselor sat down upon the floor in one
+corner and began counting out silver twenty-five-cent pieces from the
+purse, one by one. And the old woman sat upon the floor opposite him
+and took each piece of money from his hand.
+
+It was a large sum: three million, nine hundred thousand, six hundred
+and twenty-four dollars and sixteen cents. And it takes four times as
+many twenty-five-cent pieces as it would dollars to make up the amount.
+
+The king left them sitting there and went to school, and often
+thereafter he came to the counselor and interrupted him long enough to
+get from the purse what money he needed to reign in a proper and
+dignified manner. This somewhat delayed the counting, but as it was a
+long job, anyway, that did not matter much.
+
+The king grew to manhood and married the pretty daughter of the
+armorer, and they now have two lovely children of their own. Once in
+awhile they go into the big audience chamber of the palace and let the
+little ones watch the aged, hoary-headed counselor count out silver
+twenty-five-cent pieces to a withered old woman, who watched his every
+movement to see that he does not cheat her.
+
+It is a big sum, three million, nine hundred thousand, six hundred and
+twenty-four dollars and sixteen cents in twenty-five-cent pieces.
+
+But this is how the counselor was punished for being so careless with
+the woman’s money. And this is how Mary Ann Brodjinski de la Porkus was
+also punished for wishing to marry a ten-year-old king in order that
+she might wear the coronet of the queen of Quok.
+
+
+
+
+THE GIRL WHO OWNED A BEAR
+
+
+Mamma had gone down-town to shop. She had asked Nora to look after Jane
+Gladys, and Nora promised she would. But it was her afternoon for
+polishing the silver, so she stayed in the pantry and left Jane Gladys
+to amuse herself alone in the big sitting-room upstairs.
+
+The little girl did not mind being alone, for she was working on her
+first piece of embroidery—a sofa pillow for papa’s birthday present. So
+she crept into the big bay window and curled herself up on the broad
+sill while she bent her brown head over her work.
+
+Soon the door opened and closed again, quietly. Jane Gladys thought it
+was Nora, so she didn’t look up until she had taken a couple more
+stitches on a forget-me-not. Then she raised her eyes and was
+astonished to find a strange man in the middle of the room, who
+regarded her earnestly.
+
+He was short and fat, and seemed to be breathing heavily from his climb
+up the stairs. He held a work silk hat in one hand and underneath his
+other elbow was tucked a good-sized book. He was dressed in a black
+suit that looked old and rather shabby, and his head was bald upon the
+top.
+
+“Excuse me,” he said, while the child gazed at him in solemn surprise.
+“Are you Jane Gladys Brown?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” she answered.
+
+“Very good; very good, indeed!” he remarked, with a queer sort of
+smile. “I’ve had quite a hunt to find you, but I’ve succeeded at last.”
+
+“How did you get in?” inquired Jane Gladys, with a growing distrust of
+her visitor.
+
+“That is a secret,” he said, mysteriously.
+
+This was enough to put the girl on her guard. She looked at the man and
+the man looked at her, and both looks were grave and somewhat anxious.
+
+“What do you want?” she asked, straightening herself up with a
+dignified air.
+
+“Ah!—now we are coming to business,” said the man, briskly. “I’m going
+to be quite frank with you. To begin with, your father has abused me in
+a most ungentlemanly manner.”
+
+Jane Gladys got off the window sill and pointed her small finger at the
+door.
+
+“Leave this room ‘meejitly!” she cried, her voice trembling with
+indignation. “My papa is the best man in the world. He never ’bused
+anybody!”
+
+“Allow me to explain, please,” said the visitor, without paying any
+attention to her request to go away. “Your father may be very kind to
+you, for you are his little girl, you know. But when he’s down-town in
+his office he’s inclined to be rather severe, especially on book
+agents. Now, I called on him the other day and asked him to buy the
+‘Complete Works of Peter Smith,’ and what do you suppose he did?”
+
+She said nothing.
+
+“Why,” continued the man, with growing excitement, “he ordered me from
+his office, and had me put out of the building by the janitor! What do
+you think of such treatment as that from the ‘best papa in the world,’
+eh?”
+
+“I think he was quite right,” said Jane Gladys.
+
+“Oh, you do? Well,” said the man, “I resolved to be revenged for the
+insult. So, as your father is big and strong and a dangerous man, I
+have decided to be revenged upon his little girl.”
+
+Jane Gladys shivered.
+
+“What are you going to do?” she asked.
+
+“I’m going to present you with this book,” he answered, taking it from
+under his arm. Then he sat down on the edge of a chair, placed his hat
+on the rug and drew a fountain pen from his vest pocket.
+
+“I’ll write your name in it,” said he. “How do you spell Gladys?”
+
+“G-l-a-d-y-s,” she replied.
+
+“Thank you. Now this,” he continued, rising and handing her the book
+with a bow, “is my revenge for your father’s treatment of me. Perhaps
+he’ll be sorry he didn’t buy the ‘Complete Works of Peter Smith.’
+Good-by, my dear.”
+
+He walked to the door, gave her another bow, and left the room, and
+Jane Gladys could see that he was laughing to himself as if very much
+amused.
+
+When the door had closed behind the queer little man the child sat down
+in the window again and glanced at the book. It had a red and yellow
+cover and the word “Thingamajigs” was across the front in big letters.
+
+Then she opened it, curiously, and saw her name written in black
+letters upon the first white leaf.
+
+“He was a funny little man,” she said to herself, thoughtfully.
+
+She turned the next leaf, and saw a big picture of a clown, dressed in
+green and red and yellow, and having a very white face with
+three-cornered spots of red on each cheek and over the eyes. While she
+looked at this the book trembled in her hands, the leaf crackled and
+creaked and suddenly the clown jumped out of it and stood upon the
+floor beside her, becoming instantly as big as any ordinary clown.
+
+After stretching his arms and legs and yawning in a rather impolite
+manner, he gave a silly chuckle and said:
+
+“This is better! You don’t know how cramped one gets, standing so long
+upon a page of flat paper.”
+
+Perhaps you can imagine how startled Jane Gladys was, and how she
+stared at the clown who had just leaped out of the book.
+
+“You didn’t expect anything of this sort, did you?” he asked, leering
+at her in clown fashion. Then he turned around to take a look at the
+room and Jane Gladys laughed in spite of her astonishment.
+
+“What amuses you?” demanded the clown.
+
+“Why, the back of you is all white!” cried the girl. “You’re only a
+clown in front of you.”
+
+“Quite likely,” he returned, in an annoyed tone. “The artist made a
+front view of me. He wasn’t expected to make the back of me, for that
+was against the page of the book.”
+
+“But it makes you look so funny!” said Jane Gladys, laughing until her
+eyes were moist with tears.
+
+The clown looked sulky and sat down upon a chair so she couldn’t see
+his back.
+
+“I’m not the only thing in the book,” he remarked, crossly.
+
+This reminded her to turn another page, and she had scarcely noted that
+it contained the picture of a monkey when the animal sprang from the
+book with a great crumpling of paper and landed upon the window seat
+beside her.
+
+“He-he-he-he-he!” chattered the creature, springing to the girl’s
+shoulder and then to the center table. “This is great fun! Now I can be
+a real monkey instead of a picture of one.”
+
+“Real monkeys can’t talk,” said Jane Gladys, reprovingly.
+
+“How do you know? Have you ever been one yourself?” inquired the
+animal; and then he laughed loudly, and the clown laughed, too, as if
+he enjoyed the remark.
+
+The girl was quite bewildered by this time. She thoughtlessly turned
+another leaf, and before she had time to look twice a gray donkey
+leaped from the book and stumbled from the window seat to the floor
+with a great clatter.
+
+“You’re clumsy enough, I’m sure!” said the child, indignantly, for the
+beast had nearly upset her.
+
+“Clumsy! And why not?” demanded the donkey, with angry voice. “If the
+fool artist had drawn you out of perspective, as he did me, I guess
+you’d be clumsy yourself.”
+
+“What’s wrong with you?” asked Jane Gladys.
+
+“My front and rear legs on the left side are nearly six inches too
+short, that’s what’s the matter! If that artist didn’t know how to draw
+properly why did he try to make a donkey at all?”
+
+“I don’t know,” replied the child, seeing an answer was expected.
+
+“I can hardly stand up,” grumbled the donkey; “and the least little
+thing will topple me over.”
+
+“Don’t mind that,” said the monkey, making a spring at the chandelier
+and swinging from it by his tail until Jane Gladys feared he would
+knock all the globes off; “the same artist has made my ears as big as
+that clown’s and everyone knows a monkey hasn’t any ears to speak
+of—much less to draw.”
+
+“He should be prosecuted,” remarked the clown, gloomily. “I haven’t any
+back.”
+
+Jane Gladys looked from one to the other with a puzzled expression upon
+her sweet face, and turned another page of the book.
+
+Swift as a flash there sprang over her shoulder a tawney, spotted
+leopard, which landed upon the back of a big leather armchair and
+turned upon the others with a fierce movement.
+
+The monkey climbed to the top of the chandelier and chattered with
+fright. The donkey tried to run and straightway tipped over on his left
+side. The clown grew paler than ever, but he sat still in his chair and
+gave a low whistle of surprise.
+
+The leopard crouched upon the back of the chair, lashed his tail from
+side to side and glared at all of them, by turns, including Jane
+Gladys.
+
+“Which of us are you going to attack first?” asked the donkey, trying
+hard to get upon his feet again.
+
+“I can’t attack any of you,” snarled the leopard. “The artist made my
+mouth shut, so I haven’t any teeth; and he forgot to make my claws. But
+I’m a frightful looking creature, nevertheless; am I not?”
+
+“Oh, yes;” said the clown, indifferently. “I suppose you’re frightful
+looking enough. But if you have no teeth nor claws we don’t mind your
+looks at all.”
+
+This so annoyed the leopard that he growled horribly, and the monkey
+laughed at him.
+
+Just then the book slipped from the girl’s lap, and as she made a
+movement to catch it one of the pages near the back opened wide. She
+caught a glimpse of a fierce grizzly bear looking at her from the page,
+and quickly threw the book from her. It fell with a crash in the middle
+of the room, but beside it stood the great grizzly, who had wrenched
+himself from the page before the book closed.
+
+“Now,” cried the leopard from his perch, “you’d better look out for
+yourselves! You can’t laugh at him as you did at me. The bear has both
+claws and teeth.”
+
+“Indeed I have,” said the bear, in a low, deep, growling voice. “And I
+know how to use them, too. If you read in that book you’ll find I’m
+described as a horrible, cruel and remorseless grizzly, whose only
+business in life is to eat up little girls—shoes, dresses, ribbons and
+all! And then, the author says, I smack my lips and glory in my
+wickedness.”
+
+“That’s awful!” said the donkey, sitting upon his haunches and shaking
+his head sadly. “What do you suppose possessed the author to make you
+so hungry for girls? Do you eat animals, also?”
+
+“The author does not mention my eating anything but little girls,”
+replied the bear.
+
+“Very good,” remarked the clown, drawing a long breath of relief. “you
+may begin eating Jane Gladys as soon as you wish. She laughed because I
+had no back.”
+
+“And she laughed because my legs are out of perspective,” brayed the
+donkey.
+
+“But you also deserve to be eaten,” screamed the leopard from the back
+of the leather chair; “for you laughed and poked fun at me because I
+had no claws nor teeth! Don’t you suppose Mr. Grizzly, you could manage
+to eat a clown, a donkey and a monkey after you finish the girl?”
+
+“Perhaps so, and a leopard into the bargain,” growled the bear. “It
+will depend on how hungry I am. But I must begin on the little girl
+first, because the author says I prefer girls to anything.”
+
+Jane Gladys was much frightened on hearing this conversation, and she
+began to realize what the man meant when he said he gave her the book
+to be revenged. Surely papa would be sorry he hadn’t bought the
+“Complete Works of Peter Smith” when he came home and found his little
+girl eaten up by a grizzly bear—shoes, dress, ribbons and all!
+
+The bear stood up and balanced himself on his rear legs.
+
+“This is the way I look in the book,” he said. “Now watch me eat the
+little girl.”
+
+He advanced slowly toward Jane Gladys, and the monkey, the leopard, the
+donkey and the clown all stood around in a circle and watched the bear
+with much interest.
+
+But before the grizzly reached her the child had a sudden thought, and
+cried out:
+
+“Stop! You mustn’t eat me. It would be wrong.”
+
+“Why?” asked the bear, in surprise.
+
+“Because I own you. You’re my private property,” she answered.
+
+“I don’t see how you make that out,” said the bear, in a disappointed
+tone.
+
+“Why, the book was given to me; my name’s on the front leaf. And you
+belong, by rights, in the book. So you mustn’t dare to eat your owner!”
+
+The Grizzly hesitated.
+
+“Can any of you read?” he asked.
+
+“I can,” said the clown.
+
+“Then see if she speaks the truth. Is her name really in the book?”
+
+The clown picked it up and looked at the name.
+
+“It is,” said he. “‘Jane Gladys Brown;’ and written quite plainly in
+big letters.”
+
+The bear sighed.
+
+“Then, of course, I can’t eat her,” he decided. “That author is as
+disappointing as most authors are.”
+
+“But he’s not as bad as the artist,” exclaimed the donkey, who was
+still trying to stand up straight.
+
+“The fault lies with yourselves,” said Jane Gladys, severely. “Why
+didn’t you stay in the book, where you were put?”
+
+The animals looked at each other in a foolish way, and the clown
+blushed under his white paint.
+
+“Really—” began the bear, and then he stopped short.
+
+The door bell rang loudly.
+
+“It’s mamma!” cried Jane Gladys, springing to her feet. “She’s come
+home at last. Now, you stupid creatures—”
+
+But she was interrupted by them all making a rush for the book. There
+was a swish and a whirr and a rustling of leaves, and an instant later
+the book lay upon the floor looking just like any other book, while
+Jane Gladys’ strange companions had all disappeared.
+
+
+This story should teach us to think quickly and clearly upon all
+occasions; for had Jane Gladys not remembered that she owned the bear
+he probably would have eaten her before the bell rang.
+
+
+
+
+THE ENCHANTED TYPES
+
+
+One time a knook became tired of his beautiful life and longed for
+something new to do. The knooks have more wonderful powers than any
+other immortal folk—except, perhaps, the fairies and ryls. So one would
+suppose that a knook who might gain anything he desired by a simple
+wish could not be otherwise than happy and contented. But such was not
+the case with Popopo, the knook we are speaking of. He had lived
+thousands of years, and had enjoyed all the wonders he could think of.
+Yet life had become as tedious to him now as it might be to one who was
+unable to gratify a single wish.
+
+Finally, by chance, Popopo thought of the earth people who dwell in
+cities, and so he resolved to visit them and see how they lived. This
+would surely be fine amusement, and serve to pass away many wearisome
+hours.
+
+Therefore one morning, after a breakfast so dainty that you could
+scarcely imagine it, Popopo set out for the earth and at once was in
+the midst of a big city.
+
+His own dwelling was so quiet and peaceful that the roaring noise of
+the town startled him. His nerves were so shocked that before he had
+looked around three minutes he decided to give up the adventure, and
+instantly returned home.
+
+This satisfied for a time his desire to visit the earth cities, but
+soon the monotony of his existence again made him restless and gave him
+another thought. At night the people slept and the cities would be
+quiet. He would visit them at night.
+
+So at the proper time Popopo transported himself in a jiffy to a great
+city, where he began wandering about the streets. Everyone was in bed.
+No wagons rattled along the pavements; no throngs of busy men shouted
+and halloaed. Even the policemen slumbered slyly and there happened to
+be no prowling thieves abroad.
+
+His nerves being soothed by the stillness, Popopo began to enjoy
+himself. He entered many of the houses and examined their rooms with
+much curiosity. Locks and bolts made no difference to a knook, and he
+saw as well in darkness as in daylight.
+
+After a time he strolled into the business portion of the city. Stores
+are unknown among the immortals, who have no need of money or of barter
+and exchange; so Popopo was greatly interested by the novel sight of so
+many collections of goods and merchandise.
+
+During his wanderings he entered a millinery shop, and was surprised to
+see within a large glass case a great number of women’s hats, each
+bearing in one position or another a stuffed bird. Indeed, some of the
+most elaborate hats had two or three birds upon them.
+
+Now knooks are the especial guardians of birds, and love them dearly.
+To see so many of his little friends shut up in a glass case annoyed
+and grieved Popopo, who had no idea they had purposely been placed upon
+the hats by the milliner. So he slid back one of the doors of the case,
+gave the little chirruping whistle of the knooks that all birds know
+well, and called:
+
+“Come, friends; the door is open—fly out!”
+
+Popopo did not know the birds were stuffed; but, stuffed or not, every
+bird is bound to obey a knook’s whistle and a knook’s call. So they
+left the hats, flew out of the case and began fluttering about the
+room.
+
+“Poor dears!” said the kind-hearted knook, “you long to be in the
+fields and forests again.”
+
+Then he opened the outer door for them and cried: “Off with you! Fly
+away, my beauties, and be happy again.”
+
+The astonished birds at once obeyed, and when they had soared away into
+the night air the knook closed the door and continued his wandering
+through the streets.
+
+By dawn he saw many interesting sights, but day broke before he had
+finished the city, and he resolved to come the next evening a few hours
+earlier.
+
+As soon as it was dark the following day he came again to the city and
+on passing the millinery shop noticed a light within. Entering he found
+two women, one of whom leaned her head upon the table and sobbed
+bitterly, while the other strove to comfort her.
+
+Of course Popopo was invisible to mortal eyes, so he stood by and
+listened to their conversation.
+
+“Cheer up, sister,” said one. “Even though your pretty birds have all
+been stolen the hats themselves remain.”
+
+“Alas!” cried the other, who was the milliner, “no one will buy my hats
+partly trimmed, for the fashion is to wear birds upon them. And if I
+cannot sell my goods I shall be utterly ruined.”
+
+Then she renewed her sobbing and the knook stole away, feeling a little
+ashamed to realized that in his love for the birds he had unconsciously
+wronged one of the earth people and made her unhappy.
+
+This thought brought him back to the millinery shop later in the night,
+when the two women had gone home. He wanted, in some way, to replace
+the birds upon the hats, that the poor woman might be happy again. So
+he searched until he came upon a nearby cellar full of little gray
+mice, who lived quite undisturbed and gained a livelihood by gnawing
+through the walls into neighboring houses and stealing food from the
+pantries.
+
+“Here are just the creatures,” thought Popopo, “to place upon the
+woman’s hats. Their fur is almost as soft as the plumage of the birds,
+and it strikes me the mice are remarkably pretty and graceful animals.
+Moreover, they now pass their lives in stealing, and were they obliged
+to remain always upon women’s hats their morals would be much
+improved.”
+
+So he exercised a charm that drew all the mice from the cellar and
+placed them upon the hats in the glass case, where they occupied the
+places the birds had vacated and looked very becoming—at least, in the
+eyes of the unworldly knook. To prevent their running about and leaving
+the hats Popopo rendered them motionless, and then he was so pleased
+with his work that he decided to remain in the shop and witness the
+delight of the milliner when she saw how daintily her hats were now
+trimmed.
+
+She came in the early morning, accompanied by her sister, and her face
+wore a sad and resigned expression. After sweeping and dusting the shop
+and drawing the blinds she opened the glass case and took out a hat.
+
+But when she saw a tiny gray mouse nestling among the ribbons and laces
+she gave a loud shriek, and, dropping the hat, sprang with one bound to
+the top of the table. The sister, knowing the shriek to be one of fear,
+leaped upon a chair and exclaimed:
+
+“What is it? Oh! what is it?”
+
+“A mouse!” gasped the milliner, trembling with terror.
+
+Popopo, seeing this commotion, now realized that mice are especially
+disagreeable to human beings, and that he had made a grave mistake in
+placing them upon the hats; so he gave a low whistle of command that
+was heard only by the mice.
+
+Instantly they all jumped from the hats, dashed out the open door of
+the glass case and scampered away to their cellar. But this action so
+frightened the milliner and her sister that after giving several loud
+screams they fell upon their backs on the floor and fainted away.
+
+Popopo was a kind-hearted knook, but on witnessing all this misery,
+caused by his own ignorance of the ways of humans, he straightway
+wished himself at home, and so left the poor women to recover as best
+they could.
+
+Yet he could not escape a sad feeling of responsibility, and after
+thinking upon the matter he decided that since he had caused the
+milliner’s unhappiness by freeing the birds, he could set the matter
+right by restoring them to the glass case. He loved the birds, and
+disliked to condemn them to slavery again; but that seemed the only way
+to end the trouble.
+
+So he set off to find the birds. They had flown a long distance, but it
+was nothing to Popopo to reach them in a second, and he discovered them
+sitting upon the branches of a big chestnut tree and singing gayly.
+
+When they saw the knook the birds cried:
+
+“Thank you, Popopo. Thank you for setting us free.”
+
+“Do not thank me,” returned the knook, “for I have come to send you
+back to the millinery shop.”
+
+“Why?” demanded a blue jay, angrily, while the others stopped their
+songs.
+
+“Because I find the woman considers you her property, and your loss has
+caused her much unhappiness,” answered Popopo.
+
+“But remember how unhappy we were in her glass case,” said a robin
+redbreast, gravely. “And as for being her property, you are a knook,
+and the natural guardian of all birds; so you know that Nature created
+us free. To be sure, wicked men shot and stuffed us, and sold us to the
+milliner; but the idea of our being her property is nonsense!”
+
+Popopo was puzzled.
+
+“If I leave you free,” he said, “wicked men will shoot you again, and
+you will be no better off than before.”
+
+“Pooh!” exclaimed the blue jay, “we cannot be shot now, for we are
+stuffed. Indeed, two men fired several shots at us this morning, but
+the bullets only ruffled our feathers and buried themselves in our
+stuffing. We do not fear men now.”
+
+“Listen!” said Popopo, sternly, for he felt the birds were getting the
+best of the argument; “the poor milliner’s business will be ruined if I
+do not return you to her shop. It seems you are necessary to trim the
+hats properly. It is the fashion for women to wear birds upon their
+headgear. So the poor milliner’s wares, although beautified by lace and
+ribbons, are worthless unless you are perched upon them.”
+
+“Fashions,” said a black bird, solemnly, “are made by men. What law is
+there, among birds or knooks, that requires us to be the slaves of
+fashion?”
+
+“What have we to do with fashions, anyway?” screamed a linnet. “If it
+were the fashion to wear knooks perched upon women’s hats would you be
+contented to stay there? Answer me, Popopo!”
+
+But Popopo was in despair. He could not wrong the birds by sending them
+back to the milliner, nor did he wish the milliner to suffer by their
+loss. So he went home to think what could be done.
+
+After much meditation he decided to consult the king of the knooks, and
+going at once to his majesty he told him the whole story.
+
+The king frowned.
+
+“This should teach you the folly of interfering with earth people,” he
+said. “But since you have caused all this trouble, it is your duty to
+remedy it. Our birds cannot be enslaved, that is certain; therefore you
+must have the fashions changed, so it will no longer be stylish for
+women to wear birds upon their hats.”
+
+“How shall I do that?” asked Popopo.
+
+“Easily enough. Fashions often change among the earth people, who tire
+quickly of any one thing. When they read in their newspapers and
+magazines that the style is so-and-so, they never question the matter,
+but at once obey the mandate of fashion. So you must visit the
+newspapers and magazines and enchant the types.”
+
+“Enchant the types!” echoed Popopo, in wonder.
+
+“Just so. Make them read that it is no longer the fashion to wear birds
+upon hats. That will afford relief to your poor milliner and at the
+same time set free thousands of our darling birds who have been so
+cruelly used.”
+
+Popopo thanked the wise king and followed his advice.
+
+The office of every newspaper and magazine in the city was visited by
+the knook, and then he went to other cities, until there was not a
+publication in the land that had not a “new fashion note” in its pages.
+Sometimes Popopo enchanted the types, so that whoever read the print
+would see only what the knook wished them to. Sometimes he called upon
+the busy editors and befuddled their brains until they wrote exactly
+what he wanted them to. Mortals seldom know how greatly they are
+influenced by fairies, knooks and ryls, who often put thoughts into
+their heads that only the wise little immortals could have conceived.
+
+The following morning when the poor milliner looked over her newspaper
+she was overjoyed to read that “no woman could now wear a bird upon her
+hat and be in style, for the newest fashion required only ribbons and
+laces.”
+
+Popopo after this found much enjoyment in visiting every millinery shop
+he could find and giving new life to the stuffed birds which were
+carelessly tossed aside as useless. And they flew to the fields and
+forests with songs of thanks to the good knook who had rescued them.
+
+Sometimes a hunter fires his gun at a bird and then wonders why he did
+not hit it. But, having read this story, you will understand that the
+bird must have been a stuffed one from some millinery shop, which
+cannot, of course, be killed by a gun.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAUGHING HIPPOPOTAMUS
+
+
+On one of the upper branches of the Congo river lived an ancient and
+aristocratic family of hippopotamuses, which boasted a pedigree dating
+back beyond the days of Noah—beyond the existence of mankind—far into
+the dim ages when the world was new.
+
+They had always lived upon the banks of this same river, so that every
+curve and sweep of its waters, every pit and shallow of its bed, every
+rock and stump and wallow upon its bank was as familiar to them as
+their own mothers. And they are living there yet, I suppose.
+
+Not long ago the queen of this tribe of hippopotamuses had a child
+which she named Keo, because it was so fat and round. Still, that you
+may not be misled, I will say that in the hippopotamus language “Keo,”
+properly translated, means “fat and lazy” instead of fat and round.
+However, no one called the queen’s attention to this error, because her
+tusks were monstrous long and sharp, and she thought Keo the sweetest
+baby in the world.
+
+He was, indeed, all right for a hippopotamus. He rolled and played in
+the soft mud of the river bank, and waddled inland to nibble the leaves
+of the wild cabbage that grew there, and was happy and contented from
+morning till night. And he was the jolliest hippopotamus that ancient
+family had ever known. His little red eyes were forever twinkling with
+fun, and he laughed his merry laugh on all occasions, whether there was
+anything to laugh at or not.
+
+Therefore the black people who dwelt in that region called him
+“Ippi”—the jolly one, although they dared not come anigh him on account
+of his fierce mother, and his equally fierce uncles and aunts and
+cousins, who lived in a vast colony upon the river bank.
+
+And while these black people, who lived in little villages scattered
+among the trees, dared not openly attack the royal family of
+hippopotamuses, they were amazingly fond of eating hippopotamus meat
+whenever they could get it. This was no secret to the hippopotamuses.
+And, again, when the blacks managed to catch these animals alive, they
+had a trick of riding them through the jungles as if they were horses,
+thus reducing them to a condition of slavery.
+
+Therefore, having these things in mind, whenever the tribe of
+hippopotamuses smelled the oily odor of black people they were
+accustomed to charge upon them furiously, and if by chance they
+overtook one of the enemy they would rip him with their sharp tusks or
+stamp him into the earth with their huge feet.
+
+It was continual warfare between the hippopotamuses and the black
+people.
+
+Gouie lived in one of the little villages of the blacks. He was the son
+of the chief’s brother and grandson of the village sorcerer, the latter
+being an aged man known as the “the boneless wonder,” because he could
+twist himself into as many coils as a serpent and had no bones to
+hinder his bending his flesh into any position. This made him walk in a
+wabbly fashion, but the black people had great respect for him.
+
+Gouie’s hut was made of branches of trees stuck together with mud, and
+his clothing consisted of a grass mat tied around his middle. But his
+relationship to the chief and the sorcerer gave him a certain dignity,
+and he was much addicted to solitary thought. Perhaps it was natural
+that these thoughts frequently turned upon his enemies, the
+hippopotamuses, and that he should consider many ways of capturing
+them.
+
+Finally he completed his plans, and set about digging a great pit in
+the ground, midway between two sharp curves of the river. When the pit
+was finished he covered it over with small branches of trees, and
+strewed earth upon them, smoothing the surface so artfully that no one
+would suspect there was a big hole underneath. Then Gouie laughed
+softly to himself and went home to supper.
+
+That evening the queen said to Keo, who was growing to be a fine child
+for his age:
+
+“I wish you’d run across the bend and ask your Uncle Nikki to come
+here. I have found a strange plant, and want him to tell me if it is
+good to eat.”
+
+The jolly one laughed heartily as he started upon his errand, for he
+felt as important as a boy does when he is sent for the first time to
+the corner grocery to buy a yeast cake.
+
+“Guk-uk-uk-uk! guk-uk-uk-uk!” was the way he laughed; and if you think
+a hippopotamus does not laugh this way you have but to listen to one
+and you will find I am right.
+
+He crawled out of the mud where he was wallowing and tramped away
+through the bushes, and the last his mother heard as she lay half in
+and half out of the water was his musical “guk-uk-uk-uk!” dying away in
+the distance.
+
+Keo was in such a happy mood that he scarcely noticed where he stepped,
+so he was much surprised when, in the middle of a laugh, the ground
+gave way beneath him, and he fell to the bottom of Gouie’s deep pit. He
+was not badly hurt, but had bumped his nose severely as he went down;
+so he stopped laughing and began to think how he should get out again.
+Then he found the walls were higher than his head, and that he was a
+prisoner.
+
+So he laughed a little at his own misfortune, and the laughter soothed
+him to sleep, so that he snored all through the night until daylight
+came.
+
+When Gouie peered over the edge of the pit next morning he exclaimed:
+
+“Why, ’tis Ippi—the Jolly One!”
+
+Keo recognized the scent of a black man and tried to raise his head
+high enough to bite him. Seeing which Gouie spoke in the hippopotamus
+language, which he had learned from his grandfather, the sorcerer.
+
+“Have peace, little one; you are my captive.”
+
+“Yes; I will have a piece of your leg, if I can reach it,” retorted
+Keo; and then he laughed at his own joke: “Guk-uk-uk-uk!”
+
+But Gouie, being a thoughtful black man, went away without further
+talk, and did not return until the following morning. When he again
+leaned over the pit Keo was so weak from hunger that he could hardly
+laugh at all.
+
+“Do you give up?” asked Gouie, “or do you still wish to fight?”
+
+“What will happen if I give up?” inquired Keo.
+
+The black man scratched his woolly head in perplexity.
+
+“It is hard to say, Ippi. You are too young to work, and if I kill you
+for food I shall lose your tusks, which are not yet grown. Why, O Jolly
+One, did you fall into my hole? I wanted to catch your mother or one of
+your uncles.”
+
+“Guk-uk-uk-uk!” laughed Keo. “You must let me go, after all, black man;
+for I am of no use to you!”
+
+“That I will not do,” declared Gouie; “unless,” he added, as an
+afterthought, “you will make a bargain with me.”
+
+“Let me hear about the bargain, black one, for I am hungry,” said Keo.
+
+“I will let your go if you swear by the tusks of your grandfather that
+you will return to me in a year and a day and become my prisoner
+again.”
+
+The youthful hippopotamus paused to think, for he knew it was a solemn
+thing to swear by the tusks of his grandfather; but he was exceedingly
+hungry, and a year and a day seemed a long time off; so he said, with
+another careless laugh:
+
+“Very well; if you will now let me go I swear by the tusks of my
+grandfather to return to you in a year and a day and become your
+prisoner.”
+
+Gouie was much pleased, for he knew that in a year and a day Keo would
+be almost full grown. So he began digging away one end of the pit and
+filling it up with the earth until he had made an incline which would
+allow the hippopotamus to climb out.
+
+Keo was so pleased when he found himself upon the surface of the earth
+again that he indulged in a merry fit of laughter, after which he said:
+
+“Good-by, Gouie; in a year and a day you will see me again.”
+
+Then he waddled away toward the river to see his mother and get his
+breakfast, and Gouie returned to his village.
+
+During the months that followed, as the black man lay in his hut or
+hunted in the forest, he heard at times the faraway “Guk-uk-uk-uk!” of
+the laughing hippopotamus. But he only smiled to himself and thought:
+“A year and a day will soon pass away!”
+
+Now when Keo returned to his mother safe and well every member of his
+tribe was filled with joy, for the Jolly One was a general favorite.
+But when he told them that in a year and a day he must again become the
+slave of the black man, they began to wail and weep, and so many were
+their tears that the river rose several inches.
+
+Of course Keo only laughed at their sorrow; but a great meeting of the
+tribe was called and the matter discussed seriously.
+
+“Having sworn by the tusks of his grandfather,” said Uncle Nikki, “he
+must keep his promise. But it is our duty to try in some way to rescue
+him from death or a life of slavery.”
+
+To this all agreed, but no one could think of any method of saving Keo
+from his fate. So months passed away, during which all the royal
+hippopotamuses were sad and gloomy except the Jolly One himself.
+
+Finally but a week of freedom remained to Keo, and his mother, the
+queen, became so nervous and worried that another meeting of the tribe
+was called. By this time the laughing hippopotamus had grown to
+enormous size, and measured nearly fifteen feet long and six feet high,
+while his sharp tusks were whiter and harder than those of an elephant.
+
+“Unless something is done to save my child,” said the mother, “I shall
+die of grief.”
+
+Then some of her relations began to make foolish suggestions; but
+presently Uncle Nep, a wise and very big hippopotamus, said:
+
+“We must go to Glinkomok and implore his aid.”
+
+Then all were silent, for it was a bold thing to face the mighty
+Glinkomok. But the mother’s love was equal to any heroism.
+
+“I will myself go to him, if Uncle Nep will accompany me,” she said,
+quickly.
+
+Uncle Nep thoughtfully patted the soft mud with his fore foot and
+wagged his short tail leisurely from side to side.
+
+“We have always been obedient to Glinkomok, and shown him great
+respect,” said he. “Therefore I fear no danger in facing him. I will go
+with you.”
+
+All the others snorted approval, being very glad they were not called
+upon to go themselves.
+
+So the queen and Uncle Nep, with Keo swimming between them, set out
+upon their journey. They swam up the river all that day and all the
+next, until they came at sundown to a high, rocky wall, beneath which
+was the cave where the mighty Glinkomok dwelt.
+
+This fearful creature was part beast, part man, part fowl and part
+fish. It had lived since the world began. Through years of wisdom it
+had become part sorcerer, part wizard, part magician and part fairy.
+Mankind knew it not, but the ancient beasts knew and feared it.
+
+The three hippopotamuses paused before the cave, with their front feet
+upon the bank and their bodies in the water, and called in chorus a
+greeting to Glinkomok. Instantly thereafter the mouth of the cave
+darkened and the creature glided silently toward them.
+
+The hippopotamuses were afraid to look upon it, and bowed their heads
+between their legs.
+
+“We come, O Glinkomok, to implore your mercy and friendly assistance!”
+began Uncle Nep; and then he told the story of Keo’s capture, and how
+he had promised to return to the black man.
+
+“He must keep his promise,” said the creature, in a voice that sounded
+like a sigh.
+
+The mother hippopotamus groaned aloud.
+
+“But I will prepare him to overcome the black man, and to regain his
+liberty,” continued Glinkomok.
+
+Keo laughed.
+
+“Lift your right paw,” commanded Glinkomok. Keo obeyed, and the
+creature touched it with its long, hairy tongue. Then it held four
+skinny hands over Keo’s bowed head and mumbled some words in a language
+unknown to man or beast or fowl or fish. After this it spoke again in
+hippopotamese:
+
+“Your skin has now become so tough that no man can hurt you. Your
+strength is greater than that of ten elephants. Your foot is so swift
+that you can distance the wind. Your wit is sharper than the bulthorn.
+Let the man fear, but drive fear from your own breast forever; for of
+all your race you are the mightiest!”
+
+Then the terrible Glinkomok leaned over, and Keo felt its fiery breath
+scorch him as it whispered some further instructions in his ear. The
+next moment it glided back into its cave, followed by the loud thanks
+of the three hippopotamuses, who slid into the water and immediately
+began their journey home.
+
+The mother’s heart was full of joy; Uncle Nep shivered once or twice as
+he remembered a glimpse he had caught of Glinkomok; but Keo was as
+jolly as possible, and, not content to swim with his dignified elders,
+he dived under their bodies, raced all around them and laughed merrily
+every inch of the way home.
+
+Then all the tribe held high jinks and praised the mighty Glinkomok for
+befriending their queen’s son. And when the day came for the Jolly One
+to give himself up to the black man they all kissed him good-by without
+a single fear for his safety.
+
+Keo went away in good spirits, and they could hear his laughing
+“guk-uk-uk-uk!” long after he was lost in sight in the jungle.
+
+Gouie had counted the days and knew when to expect Keo; but he was
+astonished at the monstrous size to which his captive had grown, and
+congratulated himself on the wise bargain he had made. And Keo was so
+fat that Gouie determined to eat him—that is, all of him he possibly
+could, and the remainder of the carcass he would trade off to his
+fellow villagers.
+
+So he took a knife and tried to stick it into the hippopotamus, but the
+skin was so tough the knife was blunted against it. Then he tried other
+means; but Keo remained unhurt.
+
+And now indeed the Jolly One laughed his most gleeful laugh, till all
+the forest echoed the “guk-uk-uk-uk-uk!” And Gouie decided not to kill
+him, since that was impossible, but to use him for a beast of burden.
+He mounted upon Keo’s back and commanded him to march. So Keo trotted
+briskly through the village, his little eyes twinkling with merriment.
+
+The other blacks were delighted with Gouie’s captive, and begged
+permission to ride upon the Jolly One’s back. So Gouie bargained with
+them for bracelets and shell necklaces and little gold ornaments, until
+he had acquired quite a heap of trinkets. Then a dozen black men
+climbed upon Keo’s back to enjoy a ride, and the one nearest his nose
+cried out:
+
+“Run, Mud-dog—run!”
+
+And Keo ran. Swift as the wind he strode, away from the village,
+through the forest and straight up the river bank. The black men howled
+with fear; the Jolly One roared with laughter; and on, on, on they
+rushed!
+
+Then before them, on the opposite side of the river, appeared the black
+mouth of Glinkomok’s cave. Keo dashed into the water, dived to the
+bottom and left the black people struggling to swim out. But Glinkomok
+had heard the laughter of Keo and knew what to do. When the Jolly One
+rose to the surface and blew the water from his throat there was no
+black man to be seen.
+
+Keo returned alone to the village, and Gouie asked, with surprise:
+
+“Where are my brothers:”
+
+“I do not know,” answered Keo. “I took them far away, and they remained
+where I left them.”
+
+Gouie would have asked more questions then, but another crowd of black
+men impatiently waited to ride on the back of the laughing
+hippopotamus. So they paid the price and climbed to their seats, after
+which the foremost said:
+
+“Run, mud-wallower—run!”
+
+And Keo ran as before and carried them to the mouth of Glinkomok’s
+cave, and returned alone.
+
+But now Gouie became anxious to know the fate of his fellows, for he
+was the only black man left in his village. So he mounted the
+hippopotamus and cried:
+
+“Run, river-hog—run!”
+
+Keo laughed his jolly “guk-uk-uk-uk!” and ran with the speed of the
+wind. But this time he made straight for the river bank where his own
+tribe lived, and when he reached it he waded into the river, dived to
+the bottom and left Gouie floating in the middle of the stream.
+
+The black man began swimming toward the right bank, but there he saw
+Uncle Nep and half the royal tribe waiting to stamp him into the soft
+mud. So he turned toward the left bank, and there stood the queen
+mother and Uncle Nikki, red-eyed and angry, waiting to tear him with
+their tusks.
+
+Then Gouie uttered loud screams of terror, and, spying the Jolly One,
+who swam near him, he cried:
+
+“Save me, Keo! Save me, and I will release you from slavery!”
+
+“That is not enough,” laughed Keo.
+
+“I will serve you all my life!” screamed Gouie; “I will do everything
+you bid me!”
+
+“Will you return to me in a year and a day and become my captive, if I
+allow you to escape?” asked Keo.
+
+“I will! I will! I will!” cried Gouie.
+
+“Swear it by the bones of your grandfather!” commanded Keo, remembering
+that black men have no tusks to swear by.
+
+And Gouie swore it by the bones of his grandfather.
+
+Then Keo swam to the black one, who clambered upon his back again. In
+this fashion they came to the bank, where Keo told his mother and all
+the tribe of the bargain he had made with Gouie, who was to return in a
+year and a day and become his slave.
+
+Therefore the black man was permitted to depart in peace, and once more
+the Jolly One lived with his own people and was happy.
+
+When a year and a day had passed Keo began watching for the return of
+Gouie; but he did not come, then or ever afterwards.
+
+For the black man had made a bundle of his bracelets and shell
+necklaces and little gold ornaments and had traveled many miles into
+another country, where the ancient and royal tribe of hippopotamuses
+was unknown. And he set up for a great chief, because of his riches,
+and people bowed down before him.
+
+By day he was proud and swaggering. But at night he tumbled and tossed
+upon his bed and could not sleep. His conscience troubled him.
+
+For he had sworn by the bones of his grandfather; and his grandfather
+had no bones.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAGIC BON BONS
+
+
+There lived in Boston a wise and ancient chemist by the name of Dr.
+Daws, who dabbled somewhat in magic. There also lived in Boston a young
+lady by the name of Claribel Sudds, who was possessed of much money,
+little wit and an intense desire to go upon the stage.
+
+So Claribel went to Dr. Daws and said:
+
+“I can neither sing nor dance; I cannot recite verse nor play upon the
+piano; I am no acrobat nor leaper nor high kicker; yet I wish to go
+upon the stage. What shall I do?”
+
+“Are you willing to pay for such accomplishments?” asked the wise
+chemist.
+
+“Certainly,” answered Claribel, jingling her purse.
+
+“Then come to me to-morrow at two o’clock,” said he.
+
+All that night he practiced what is known as chemical sorcery; so that
+when Claribel Sudds came next day at two o’clock he showed her a small
+box filled with compounds that closely resembled French bonbons.
+
+“This is a progressive age,” said the old man, “and I flatter myself
+your Uncle Daws keeps right along with the procession. Now, one of your
+old-fashioned sorcerers would have made you some nasty, bitter pills to
+swallow; but I have consulted your taste and convenience. Here are some
+magic bonbons. If you eat this one with the lavender color you can
+dance thereafter as lightly and gracefully as if you had been trained a
+lifetime. After you consume the pink confection you will sing like a
+nightingale. Eating the white one will enable you to become the finest
+elocutionist in the land. The chocolate piece will charm you into
+playing the piano better than Rubenstein, while after eating the
+lemon-yellow bonbon you can easily kick six feet above your head.”
+
+“How delightful!” exclaimed Claribel, who was truly enraptured. “You
+are certainly a most clever sorcerer as well as a considerate
+compounder,” and she held out her hand for the box.
+
+“Ahem!” said the wise one; “a check, please.”
+
+“Oh, yes; to be sure! How stupid of me to forget it,” she returned.
+
+He considerately retained the box in his own hand while she signed a
+check for a large amount of money, after which he allowed her to hold
+the box herself.
+
+“Are you sure you have made them strong enough?” she inquired,
+anxiously; “it usually takes a great deal to affect me.”
+
+“My only fear,” replied Dr. Daws, “is that I have made them too strong.
+For this is the first time I have ever been called upon to prepare
+these wonderful confections.”
+
+“Don’t worry,” said Claribel; “the stronger they act the better I shall
+act myself.”
+
+She went away, after saying this, but stopping in at a dry goods store
+to shop, she forgot the precious box in her new interest and left it
+lying on the ribbon counter.
+
+Then little Bessie Bostwick came to the counter to buy a hair ribbon
+and laid her parcels beside the box. When she went away she gathered up
+the box with her other bundles and trotted off home with it.
+
+Bessie never knew, until after she had hung her coat in the hall closet
+and counted up her parcels, that she had one too many. Then she opened
+it and exclaimed:
+
+“Why, it’s a box of candy! Someone must have mislaid it. But it is too
+small a matter to worry about; there are only a few pieces.” So she
+dumped the contents of the box into a bonbon dish that stood upon the
+hall table and picking out the chocolate piece—she was fond of
+chocolates—ate it daintily while she examined her purchases.
+
+These were not many, for Bessie was only twelve years old and was not
+yet trusted by her parents to expend much money at the stores. But
+while she tried on the hair ribbon she suddenly felt a great desire to
+play upon the piano, and the desire at last became so overpowering that
+she went into the parlor and opened the instrument.
+
+The little girl had, with infinite pains, contrived to learn two
+“pieces” which she usually executed with a jerky movement of her right
+hand and a left hand that forgot to keep up and so made dreadful
+discords. But under the influence of the chocolate bonbon she sat down
+and ran her fingers lightly over the keys producing such exquisite
+harmony that she was filled with amazement at her own performance.
+
+That was the prelude, however. The next moment she dashed into
+Beethoven’s seventh sonata and played it magnificently.
+
+Her mother, hearing the unusual burst of melody, came downstairs to see
+what musical guest had arrived; but when she discovered it was her own
+little daughter who was playing so divinely she had an attack of
+palpitation of the heart (to which she was subject) and sat down upon a
+sofa until it should pass away.
+
+Meanwhile Bessie played one piece after another with untiring energy.
+She loved music, and now found that all she need do was to sit at the
+piano and listen and watch her hands twinkle over the keyboard.
+
+Twilight deepened in the room and Bessie’s father came home and hung up
+his hat and overcoat and placed his umbrella in the rack. Then he
+peeped into the parlor to see who was playing.
+
+“Great Caesar!” he exclaimed. But the mother came to him softly with
+her finger on her lips and whispered: “Don’t interrupt her, John. Our
+child seems to be in a trance. Did you ever hear such superb music?”
+
+“Why, she’s an infant prodigy!” gasped the astounded father. “Beats
+Blind Tom all hollow! It’s—it’s wonderful!”
+
+As they stood listening the senator arrived, having been invited to
+dine with them that evening. And before he had taken off his coat the
+Yale professor—a man of deep learning and scholarly attainments—joined
+the party.
+
+Bessie played on; and the four elders stood in a huddled but silent and
+amazed group, listening to the music and waiting for the sound of the
+dinner gong.
+
+Mr. Bostwick, who was hungry, picked up the bonbon dish that lay on the
+table beside him and ate the pink confection. The professor was
+watching him, so Mr. Bostwick courteously held the dish toward him. The
+professor ate the lemon-yellow piece and the senator reached out his
+hand and took the lavender piece. He did not eat it, however, for,
+chancing to remember that it might spoil his dinner, he put it in his
+vest pocket. Mrs. Bostwick, still intently listening to her precocious
+daughter, without thinking what she did, took the remaining piece,
+which was the white one, and slowly devoured it.
+
+The dish was now empty, and Claribel Sudds’ precious bonbons had passed
+from her possession forever!
+
+Suddenly Mr. Bostwick, who was a big man, began to sing in a shrill,
+tremolo soprano voice. It was not the same song Bessie was playing, and
+the discord was shocking that the professor smiled, the senator put his
+hands to his ears and Mrs. Bostwick cried in a horrified voice:
+
+“William!”
+
+Her husband continued to sing as if endeavoring to emulate the famous
+Christine Nillson, and paid no attention whatever to his wife or his
+guests.
+
+Fortunately the dinner gong now sounded, and Mrs. Bostwick dragged
+Bessie from the piano and ushered her guests into the dining-room. Mr.
+Bostwick followed, singing “The Last Rose of Summer” as if it had been
+an encore demanded by a thousand delighted hearers.
+
+The poor woman was in despair at witnessing her husband’s undignified
+actions and wondered what she might do to control him. The professor
+seemed more grave than usual; the senator’s face wore an offended
+expression, and Bessie kept moving her fingers as if she still wanted
+to play the piano.
+
+Mrs. Bostwick managed to get them all seated, although her husband had
+broken into another aria; and then the maid brought in the soup.
+
+When she carried a plate to the professor, he cried, in an excited
+voice:
+
+“Hold it higher! Higher—I say!” And springing up he gave it a sudden
+kick that sent it nearly to the ceiling, from whence the dish descended
+to scatter soup over Bessie and the maid and to smash in pieces upon
+the crown of the professor’s bald head.
+
+At this atrocious act the senator rose from his seat with an
+exclamation of horror and glanced at his hostess.
+
+For some time Mrs. Bostwick had been staring straight ahead, with a
+dazed expression; but now, catching the senator’s eye, she bowed
+gracefully and began reciting “The Charge of the Light Brigade” in
+forceful tones.
+
+The senator shuddered. Such disgraceful rioting he had never seen nor
+heard before in a decent private family. He felt that his reputation
+was at stake, and, being the only sane person, apparently, in the room,
+there was no one to whom he might appeal.
+
+The maid had run away to cry hysterically in the kitchen; Mr. Bostwick
+was singing “O Promise Me;” the professor was trying to kick the globes
+off the chandelier; Mrs. Bostwick had switched her recitation to “The
+Boy Stood on the Burning Deck,” and Bessie had stolen into the parlor
+and was pounding out the overture from the “Flying Dutchman.”
+
+The senator was not at all sure he would not go crazy himself,
+presently; so he slipped away from the turmoil, and, catching up his
+had and coat in the hall, hurried from the house.
+
+That night he sat up late writing a political speech he was to deliver
+the next afternoon at Faneuil hall, but his experiences at the
+Bostwicks’ had so unnerved him that he could scarcely collect his
+thoughts, and often he would pause and shake his head pityingly as he
+remembered the strange things he had seen in that usually respectable
+home.
+
+The next day he met Mr. Bostwick in the street, but passed him by with
+a stony glare of oblivion. He felt he really could not afford to know
+this gentleman in the future. Mr. Bostwick was naturally indignant at
+the direct snub; yet in his mind lingered a faint memory of some quite
+unusual occurrences at his dinner party the evening before, and he
+hardly knew whether he dared resent the senator’s treatment or not.
+
+The political meeting was the feature of the day, for the senator’s
+eloquence was well known in Boston. So the big hall was crowded with
+people, and in one of the front rows sat the Bostwick family, with the
+learned Yale professor beside them. They all looked tired and pale, as
+if they had passed a rather dissipated evening, and the senator was
+rendered so nervous by seeing them that he refused to look in their
+direction a second time.
+
+While the mayor was introducing him the great man sat fidgeting in his
+chair; and, happening to put his thumb and finger into his vest pocket,
+he found the lavender-colored bonbon he had placed there the evening
+before.
+
+“This may clear my throat,” thought the senator, and slipped the bonbon
+into his mouth.
+
+A few minutes afterwards he arose before the vast audience, which
+greeted him with enthusiastic plaudits.
+
+“My friends,” began the senator, in a grave voice, “this is a most
+impressive and important occasion.”
+
+Then he paused, balanced himself upon his left foot, and kicked his
+right leg into the air in the way favored by ballet-dancers!
+
+There was a hum of amazement and horror from the spectators, but the
+senator appeared not to notice it. He whirled around upon the tips of
+his toes, kicked right and left in a graceful manner, and startled a
+bald-headed man in the front row by casting a languishing glance in his
+direction.
+
+Suddenly Claribel Sudds, who happened to be present, uttered a scream
+and sprang to her feet. Pointing an accusing finger at the dancing
+senator, she cried in a loud voice:
+
+“That’s the man who stole my bonbons! Seize him! Arrest him! Don’t let
+him escape!”
+
+But the ushers rushed her out of the hall, thinking she had gone
+suddenly insane; and the senator’s friends seized him firmly and
+carried him out the stage entrance to the street, where they put him
+into an open carriage and instructed the driver to take him home.
+
+The effect of the magic bonbon was still powerful enough to control the
+poor senator, who stood upon the rear seat of the carriage and danced
+energetically all the way home, to the delight of the crowd of small
+boys who followed the carriage and the grief of the sober-minded
+citizens, who shook their heads sadly and whispered that “another good
+man had gone wrong.”
+
+It took the senator several months to recover from the shame and
+humiliation of this escapade; and, curiously enough, he never had the
+slightest idea what had induced him to act in so extraordinary a
+manner. Perhaps it was fortunate the last bonbon had now been eaten,
+for they might easily have caused considerably more trouble than they
+did.
+
+Of course Claribel went again to the wise chemist and signed a check
+for another box of magic bonbons; but she must have taken better care
+of these, for she is now a famous vaudeville actress.
+
+
+This story should teach us the folly of condemning others for actions
+that we do not understand, for we never know what may happen to
+ourselves. It may also serve as a hint to be careful about leaving
+parcels in public places, and, incidentally, to let other people’s
+packages severely alone.
+
+
+
+
+THE CAPTURE OF FATHER TIME
+
+
+Jim was the son of a cowboy, and lived on the broad plains of Arizona.
+His father had trained him to lasso a bronco or a young bull with
+perfect accuracy, and had Jim possessed the strength to back up his
+skill he would have been as good a cowboy as any in all Arizona.
+
+When he was twelve years old he made his first visit to the east, where
+Uncle Charles, his father’s brother, lived. Of course Jim took his
+lasso with him, for he was proud of his skill in casting it, and wanted
+to show his cousins what a cowboy could do.
+
+At first the city boys and girls were much interested in watching Jim
+lasso posts and fence pickets, but they soon tired of it, and even Jim
+decided it was not the right sort of sport for cities.
+
+But one day the butcher asked Jim to ride one of his horses into the
+country, to a pasture that had been engaged, and Jim eagerly consented.
+He had been longing for a horseback ride, and to make it seem like old
+times he took his lasso with him.
+
+He rode through the streets demurely enough, but on reaching the open
+country roads his spirits broke forth into wild jubilation, and, urging
+the butcher’s horse to full gallop, he dashed away in true cowboy
+fashion.
+
+Then he wanted still more liberty, and letting down the bars that led
+into a big field he began riding over the meadow and throwing his lasso
+at imaginary cattle, while he yelled and whooped to his heart’s
+content.
+
+Suddenly, on making a long cast with his lasso, the loop caught upon
+something and rested about three feet from the ground, while the rope
+drew taut and nearly pulled Jim from his horse.
+
+This was unexpected. More than that, it was wonderful; for the field
+seemed bare of even a stump. Jim’s eyes grew big with amazement, but he
+knew he had caught something when a voice cried out:
+
+“Here, let go! Let go, I say! Can’t you see what you’ve done?”
+
+No, Jim couldn’t see, nor did he intend to let go until he found out
+what was holding the loop of the lasso. So he resorted to an old trick
+his father had taught him and, putting the butcher’s horse to a run,
+began riding in a circle around the spot where his lasso had caught.
+
+As he thus drew nearer and nearer his quarry he saw the rope coil up,
+yet it looked to be coiling over nothing but air. One end of the lasso
+was made fast to a ring in the saddle, and when the rope was almost
+wound up and the horse began to pull away and snort with fear, Jim
+dismounted. Holding the reins of the bridle in one hand, he followed
+the rope, and an instant later saw an old man caught fast in the coils
+of the lasso.
+
+His head was bald and uncovered, but long white whiskers grew down to
+his waist. About his body was thrown a loose robe of fine white linen.
+In one hand he bore a great scythe, and beneath the other arm he
+carried an hourglass.
+
+While Jim gazed wonderingly upon him, this venerable old man spoke in
+an angry voice:
+
+“Now, then—get that rope off as fast as you can! You’ve brought
+everything on earth to a standstill by your foolishness! Well—what are
+you staring at? Don’t you know who I am?”
+
+“No,” said Jim, stupidly.
+
+“Well, I’m Time—Father Time! Now, make haste and set me free—if you
+want the world to run properly.”
+
+“How did I happen to catch you?” asked Jim, without making a move to
+release his captive.
+
+“I don’t know. I’ve never been caught before,” growled Father Time.
+“But I suppose it was because you were foolishly throwing your lasso at
+nothing.”
+
+“I didn’t see you,” said Jim.
+
+“Of course you didn’t. I’m invisible to the eyes of human beings unless
+they get within three feet of me, and I take care to keep more than
+that distance away from them. That’s why I was crossing this field,
+where I supposed no one would be. And I should have been perfectly safe
+had it not been for your beastly lasso. Now, then,” he added, crossly,
+“are you going to get that rope off?”
+
+“Why should I?” asked Jim.
+
+“Because everything in the world stopped moving the moment you caught
+me. I don’t suppose you want to make an end of all business and
+pleasure, and war and love, and misery and ambition and everything
+else, do you? Not a watch has ticked since you tied me up here like a
+mummy!”
+
+Jim laughed. It really was funny to see the old man wound round and
+round with coils of rope from his knees up to his chin.
+
+“It’ll do you good to rest,” said the boy. “From all I’ve heard you
+lead a rather busy life.”
+
+“Indeed I do,” replied Father Time, with a sigh. “I’m due in Kamchatka
+this very minute. And to think one small boy is upsetting all my
+regular habits!”
+
+“Too bad!” said Jim, with a grin. “But since the world has stopped
+anyhow, it won’t matter if it takes a little longer recess. As soon as
+I let you go Time will fly again. Where are your wings?”
+
+“I haven’t any,” answered the old man. “That is a story cooked up by
+some one who never saw me. As a matter of fact, I move rather slowly.”
+
+“I see, you take your time,” remarked the boy. “What do you use that
+scythe for?”
+
+“To mow down the people,” said the ancient one. “Every time I swing my
+scythe some one dies.”
+
+“Then I ought to win a life-saving medal by keeping you tied up,” said
+Jim. “Some folks will live this much longer.”
+
+“But they won’t know it,” said Father Time, with a sad smile; “so it
+will do them no good. You may as well untie me at once.”
+
+“No,” said Jim, with a determined air. “I may never capture you again;
+so I’ll hold you for awhile and see how the world wags without you.”
+
+Then he swung the old man, bound as he was, upon the back of the
+butcher’s horse, and, getting into the saddle himself, started back
+toward town, one hand holding his prisoner and the other guiding the
+reins.
+
+When he reached the road his eye fell on a strange tableau. A horse and
+buggy stood in the middle of the road, the horse in the act of
+trotting, with his head held high and two legs in the air, but
+perfectly motionless. In the buggy a man and a woman were seated; but
+had they been turned into stone they could not have been more still and
+stiff.
+
+“There’s no Time for them!” sighed the old man. “Won’t you let me go
+now?”
+
+“Not yet,” replied the boy.
+
+He rode on until he reached the city, where all the people stood in
+exactly the same positions they were in when Jim lassoed Father Time.
+Stopping in front of a big dry goods store, the boy hitched his horse
+and went in. The clerks were measuring out goods and showing patterns
+to the rows of customers in front of them, but everyone seemed suddenly
+to have become a statue.
+
+There was something very unpleasant in this scene, and a cold shiver
+began to run up and down Jim’s back; so he hurried out again.
+
+On the edge of the sidewalk sat a poor, crippled beggar, holding out
+his hat, and beside him stood a prosperous-looking gentleman who was
+about to drop a penny into the beggar’s hat. Jim knew this gentleman to
+be very rich but rather stingy, so he ventured to run his hand into the
+man’s pocket and take out his purse, in which was a $20 gold piece.
+This glittering coin he put in the gentleman’s fingers instead of the
+penny and then restored the purse to the rich man’s pocket.
+
+“That donation will surprise him when he comes to life,” thought the
+boy.
+
+He mounted the horse again and rode up the street. As he passed the
+shop of his friend, the butcher, he noticed several pieces of meat
+hanging outside.
+
+“I’m afraid that meat’ll spoil,” he remarked.
+
+“It takes Time to spoil meat,” answered the old man.
+
+This struck Jim as being queer, but true.
+
+“It seems Time meddles with everything,” said he.
+
+“Yes; you’ve made a prisoner of the most important personage in the
+world,” groaned the old man; “and you haven’t enough sense to let him
+go again.”
+
+Jim did not reply, and soon they came to his uncle’s house, where he
+again dismounted. The street was filled with teams and people, but all
+were motionless. His two little cousins were just coming out the gate
+on their way to school, with their books and slates underneath their
+arms; so Jim had to jump over the fence to avoid knocking them down.
+
+In the front room sat his aunt, reading her Bible. She was just turning
+a page when Time stopped. In the dining-room was his uncle, finishing
+his luncheon. His mouth was open and his fork poised just before it,
+while his eyes were fixed upon the newspaper folded beside him. Jim
+helped himself to his uncle’s pie, and while he ate it he walked out to
+his prisoner.
+
+“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” said he.
+
+“What’s that?” asked Father Time.
+
+“Why is it that I’m able to move around while everyone else is—is—froze
+up?”
+
+“That is because I’m your prisoner,” answered the other. “You can do
+anything you wish with Time now. But unless you are careful you’ll do
+something you will be sorry for.”
+
+Jim threw the crust of his pie at a bird that was suspended in the air,
+where it had been flying when Time stopped.
+
+“Anyway,” he laughed, “I’m living longer than anyone else. No one will
+ever be able to catch up with me again.”
+
+“Each life has its allotted span,” said the old man. “When you have
+lived your proper time my scythe will mow you down.”
+
+“I forgot your scythe,” said Jim, thoughtfully.
+
+Then a spirit of mischief came into the boy’s head, for he happened to
+think that the present opportunity to have fun would never occur again.
+He tied Father Time to his uncle’s hitching post, that he might not
+escape, and then crossed the road to the corner grocery.
+
+The grocer had scolded Jim that very morning for stepping into a basket
+of turnips by accident. So the boy went to the back end of the grocery
+and turned on the faucet of the molasses barrel.
+
+“That’ll make a nice mess when Time starts the molasses running all
+over the floor,” said Jim, with a laugh.
+
+A little further down the street was a barber shop, and sitting in the
+barber’s chair Jim saw the man that all the boys declared was the
+“meanest man in town.” He certainly did not like the boys and the boys
+knew it. The barber was in the act of shampooing this person when Time
+was captured. Jim ran to the drug store, and, getting a bottle of
+mucilage, he returned and poured it over the ruffled hair of the
+unpopular citizen.
+
+“That’ll probably surprise him when he wakes up,” thought Jim.
+
+Near by was the schoolhouse. Jim entered it and found that only a few
+of the pupils were assembled. But the teacher sat at his desk, stern
+and frowning as usual.
+
+Taking a piece of chalk, Jim marked upon the blackboard in big letters
+the following words:
+
+“Every scholar is requested to yell the minute he enters the room. He
+will also please throw his books at the teacher’s head. Signed, Prof.
+Sharpe.”
+
+“That ought to raise a nice rumpus,” murmured the mischiefmaker, as he
+walked away.
+
+On the corner stood Policeman Mulligan, talking with old Miss Scrapple,
+the worst gossip in town, who always delighted in saying something
+disagreeable about her neighbors. Jim thought this opportunity was too
+good to lose. So he took off the policeman’s cap and brass-buttoned
+coat and put them on Miss Scrapple, while the lady’s feathered and
+ribboned hat he placed jauntily upon the policeman’s head.
+
+The effect was so comical that the boy laughed aloud, and as a good
+many people were standing near the corner Jim decided that Miss
+Scrapple and Officer Mulligan would create a sensation when Time
+started upon his travels.
+
+Then the young cowboy remembered his prisoner, and, walking back to the
+hitching post, he came within three feet of it and saw Father Time
+still standing patiently within the toils of the lasso. He looked angry
+and annoyed, however, and growled out:
+
+“Well, when do you intend to release me?”
+
+“I’ve been thinking about that ugly scythe of yours,” said Jim.
+
+“What about it?” asked Father Time.
+
+“Perhaps if I let you go you’ll swing it at me the first thing, to be
+revenged,” replied the boy.
+
+Father Time gave him a severe look, but said:
+
+“I’ve known boys for thousands of years, and of course I know they’re
+mischievous and reckless. But I like boys, because they grow up to be
+men and people my world. Now, if a man had caught me by accident, as
+you did, I could have scared him into letting me go instantly; but boys
+are harder to scare. I don’t know as I blame you. I was a boy myself,
+long ago, when the world was new. But surely you’ve had enough fun with
+me by this time, and now I hope you’ll show the respect that is due to
+old age. Let me go, and in return I will promise to forget all about my
+capture. The incident won’t do much harm, anyway, for no one will ever
+know that Time has halted the last three hours or so.”
+
+“All right,” said Jim, cheerfully, “since you’ve promised not to mow me
+down, I’ll let you go.” But he had a notion some people in the town
+would suspect Time had stopped when they returned to life.
+
+He carefully unwound the rope from the old man, who, when he was free,
+at once shouldered his scythe, rearranged his white robe and nodded
+farewell.
+
+The next moment he had disappeared, and with a rustle and rumble and
+roar of activity the world came to life again and jogged along as it
+always had before.
+
+Jim wound up his lasso, mounted the butcher’s horse and rode slowly
+down the street.
+
+Loud screams came from the corner, where a great crowd of people
+quickly assembled. From his seat on the horse Jim saw Miss Scrapple,
+attired in the policeman’s uniform, angrily shaking her fists in
+Mulligan’s face, while the officer was furiously stamping upon the
+lady’s hat, which he had torn from his own head amidst the jeers of the
+crowd.
+
+As he rode past the schoolhouse he heard a tremendous chorus of yells,
+and knew Prof. Sharpe was having a hard time to quell the riot caused
+by the sign on the blackboard.
+
+Through the window of the barber shop he saw the “mean man” frantically
+belaboring the barber with a hair brush, while his hair stood up stiff
+as bayonets in all directions. And the grocer ran out of his door and
+yelled “Fire!” while his shoes left a track of molasses wherever he
+stepped.
+
+Jim’s heart was filled with joy. He was fairly reveling in the
+excitement he had caused when some one caught his leg and pulled him
+from the horse.
+
+“What’re ye doin’ hear, ye rascal?” cried the butcher, angrily; “didn’t
+ye promise to put that beast inter Plympton’s pasture? An’ now I find
+ye ridin’ the poor nag around like a gentleman o’ leisure!”
+
+“That’s a fact,” said Jim, with surprise; “I clean forgot about the
+horse!”
+
+
+This story should teach us the supreme importance of Time and the folly
+of trying to stop it. For should you succeed, as Jim did, in bringing
+Time to a standstill, the world would soon become a dreary place and
+life decidedly unpleasant.
+
+
+
+
+THE WONDERFUL PUMP
+
+
+Not many years ago there lived on a stony, barren New England farm a
+man and his wife. They were sober, honest people, working hard from
+early morning until dark to enable them to secure a scanty living from
+their poor land.
+
+Their house, a small, one-storied building, stood upon the side of a
+steep hill, and the stones lay so thickly about it that scarce anything
+green could grow from the ground. At the foot of the hill, a quarter of
+a mile from the house by the winding path, was a small brook, and the
+woman was obliged to go there for water and to carry it up the hill to
+the house. This was a tedious task, and with the other hard work that
+fell to her share had made her gaunt and bent and lean.
+
+Yet she never complained, but meekly and faithfully performed her
+duties, doing the housework, carrying the water and helping her husband
+hoe the scanty crop that grew upon the best part of their land.
+
+One day, as she walked down the path to the brook, her big shoes
+scattering the pebbles right and left, she noticed a large beetle lying
+upon its back and struggling hard with its little legs to turn over,
+that its feet might again touch the ground. But this it could not
+accomplish; so the woman, who had a kind heart, reached down and gently
+turned the beetle with her finger. At once it scampered from the path
+and she went on to the brook.
+
+The next day, as she came for water, she was surprised to see the
+beetle again lying upon its back and struggling helplessly to turn.
+Once more the woman stopped and set him upon his feet; and then, as she
+stooped over the tiny creature, she heard a small voice say:
+
+“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much for saving me!”
+
+Half frightened at hearing a beetle speak in her own language, the
+woman started back and exclaimed:
+
+“La sakes! Surely you can’t talk like humans!” Then, recovering from
+her alarm, she again bent over the beetle, who answered her:
+
+“Why shouldn’t I talk, if I have anything to say?
+
+“’Cause you’re a bug,” replied the woman.
+
+“That is true; and you saved my life—saved me from my enemies, the
+sparrows. And this is the second time you have come to my assistance,
+so I owe you a debt of gratitude. Bugs value their lives as much as
+human beings, and I am a more important creature than you, in your
+ignorance, may suppose. But, tell me, why do you come each day to the
+brook?”
+
+“For water,” she answered, staring stupidly down at the talking beetle.
+
+“Isn’t it hard work?” the creature inquired.
+
+“Yes; but there’s no water on the hill,” said she.
+
+“Then dig a well and put a pump in it,” replied the beetle.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+“My man tried it once; but there was no water,” she said, sadly.
+
+“Try it again,” commanded the beetle; “and in return for your kindness
+to me I will make this promise: if you do not get water from the well
+you will get that which is more precious to you. I must go now. Do not
+forget. Dig a well.”
+
+And then, without pausing to say good-by, it ran swiftly away and was
+lost among the stones.
+
+The woman returned to the house much perplexed by what the beetle had
+said, and when her husband came in from his work she told him the whole
+story.
+
+The poor man thought deeply for a time, and then declared:
+
+“Wife, there may be truth in what the bug told you. There must be magic
+in the world yet, if a beetle can speak; and if there is such a thing
+as magic we may get water from the well. The pump I bought to use in
+the well which proved to be dry is now lying in the barn, and the only
+expense in following the talking bug’s advice will be the labor of
+digging the hole. Labor I am used to; so I will dig the well.”
+
+Next day he set about it, and dug so far down in the ground that he
+could hardly reach the top to climb out again; but not a drop of water
+was found.
+
+“Perhaps you did not dig deep enough,” his wife said, when he told her
+of his failure.
+
+So the following day he made a long ladder, which he put into the hole;
+and then he dug, and dug, and dug, until the top of the ladder barely
+reached the top of the hole. But still there was no water.
+
+When the woman next went to the brook with her pail she saw the beetle
+sitting upon a stone beside her path. So she stopped and said:
+
+“My husband has dug the well; but there is no water.”
+
+“Did he put the pump in the well?” asked the beetle.
+
+“No,” she answered.
+
+“Then do as I commanded; put in the pump, and if you do not get water I
+promise you something still more precious.”
+
+Saying which, the beetle swiftly slid from the stone and disappeared.
+The woman went back to the house and told her husband what the bug had
+said.
+
+“Well,” replied the simple fellow, “there can be no harm in trying.”
+
+So he got the pump from the barn and placed it in the well, and then he
+took hold of the handle and began to pump, while his wife stood by to
+watch what would happen.
+
+No water came, but after a few moments a gold piece dropped from the
+spout of the pump, and then another, and another, until several
+handfuls of gold lay in a little heap upon the ground.
+
+The man stopped pumping then and ran to help his wife gather the gold
+pieces into her apron; but their hands trembled so greatly through
+excitement and joy that they could scarcely pick up the sparkling
+coins.
+
+At last she gathered them close to her bosom and together they ran to
+the house, where they emptied the precious gold upon the table and
+counted the pieces.
+
+All were stamped with the design of the United States mint and were
+worth five dollars each. Some were worn and somewhat discolored from
+use, while others seemed bright and new, as if they had not been much
+handled. When the value of the pieces was added together they were
+found to be worth three hundred dollars.
+
+Suddenly the woman spoke.
+
+“Husband, the beetle said truly when he declared we should get
+something more precious than water from the well. But run at once and
+take away the handle from the pump, lest anyone should pass this way
+and discover our secret.”
+
+So the man ran to the pump and removed the handle, which he carried to
+the house and hid underneath the bed.
+
+They hardly slept a wink that night, lying awake to think of their good
+fortune and what they should do with their store of yellow gold. In all
+their former lives they had never possessed more than a few dollars at
+a time, and now the cracked teapot was nearly full of gold coins.
+
+The following day was Sunday, and they arose early and ran to see if
+their treasure was safe. There it lay, heaped snugly within the teapot,
+and they were so willing to feast their eyes upon it that it was long
+before the man could leave it to build the fire or the woman to cook
+the breakfast.
+
+While they ate their simple meal the woman said:
+
+“We will go to church to-day and return thanks for the riches that have
+come to us so suddenly. And I will give the pastor one of the gold
+pieces.”
+
+“It is well enough to go to church,” replied her husband, “and also to
+return thanks. But in the night I decided how we will spend all our
+money; so there will be none left for the pastor.”
+
+“We can pump more,” said the woman.
+
+“Perhaps; and perhaps not,” he answered, cautiously. “What we have we
+can depend upon, but whether or not there be more in the well I cannot
+say.”
+
+“Then go and find out,” she returned, “for I am anxious to give
+something to the pastor, who is a poor man and deserving.”
+
+So the man got the pump handle from beneath the bed, and, going to the
+pump, fitted it in place. Then he set a large wooden bucket under the
+spout and began to pump. To their joy the gold pieces soon began
+flowing into the pail, and, seeing it about to run over the brim, the
+woman brought another pail. But now the stream suddenly stopped, and
+the man said, cheerfully:
+
+“That is enough for to-day, good wife! We have added greatly to our
+treasure, and the parson shall have his gold piece. Indeed, I think I
+shall also put a coin into the contribution box.”
+
+Then, because the teapot would hold no more gold, the farmer emptied
+the pail into the wood-box, covering the money with dried leaves and
+twigs, that no one might suspect what lay underneath.
+
+Afterward they dressed themselves in their best clothing and started
+for the church, each taking a bright gold piece from the teapot as a
+gift to the pastor.
+
+Over the hill and down into the valley beyond they walked, feeling so
+gay and light-hearted that they did not mind the distance at all. At
+last they came to the little country church and entered just as the
+services began.
+
+Being proud of their wealth and of the gifts they had brought for the
+pastor, they could scarcely wait for the moment when the deacon passed
+the contribution box. But at last the time came, and the farmer held
+his hand high over the box and dropped the gold piece so that all the
+congregation could see what he had given. The woman did likewise,
+feeling important and happy at being able to give the good parson so
+much.
+
+The parson, watching from the pulpit, saw the gold drop into the box,
+and could hardly believe that his eyes did not deceive him. However,
+when the box was laid upon his desk there were the two gold pieces, and
+he was so surprised that he nearly forgot his sermon.
+
+When the people were leaving the church at the close of the services
+the good man stopped the farmer and his wife and asked:
+
+“Where did you get so much gold?”
+
+The woman gladly told him how she had rescued the beetle, and how, in
+return, they had been rewarded with the wonderful pump. The pastor
+listened to it all gravely, and when the story was finished he said:
+
+“According to tradition strange things happened in this world ages ago,
+and now I find that strange things may also happen to-day. For by your
+tale you have found a beetle that can speak and also has power to
+bestow upon you great wealth.” Then he looked carefully at the gold
+pieces and continued: “Either this money is fairy gold or it is genuine
+metal, stamped at the mint of the United States government. If it is
+fairy gold it will disappear within 24 hours, and will therefore do no
+one any good. If it is real money, then your beetle must have robbed
+some one of the gold and placed it in your well. For all money belongs
+to some one, and if you have not earned it honestly, but have come by
+it in the mysterious way you mention, it was surely taken from the
+persons who owned it, without their consent. Where else could real
+money come from?”
+
+The farmer and his wife were confused by this statement and looked
+guiltily at each other, for they were honest people and wished to wrong
+no one.
+
+“Then you think the beetle stole the money?” asked the woman.
+
+“By his magic powers he probably took it from its rightful owners. Even
+bugs which can speak have no consciences and cannot tell the difference
+between right and wrong. With a desire to reward you for your kindness
+the beetle took from its lawful possessors the money you pumped from
+the well.”
+
+“Perhaps it really is fairy gold,” suggested the man. “If so, we must
+go to the town and spend the money before it disappears.”
+
+“That would be wrong,” answered the pastor; “for then the merchants
+would have neither money nor goods. To give them fairy gold would be to
+rob them.”
+
+“What, then, shall we do?” asked the poor woman, wringing her hands
+with grief and disappointment.
+
+“Go home and wait until to-morrow. If the gold is then in your
+possession it is real money and not fairy gold. But if it is real money
+you must try to restore it to its rightful owners. Take, also, these
+pieces which you have given me, for I cannot accept gold that is not
+honestly come by.”
+
+Sadly the poor people returned to their home, being greatly disturbed
+by what they had heard. Another sleepless night was passed, and on
+Monday morning they arose at daylight and ran to see if the gold was
+still visible.
+
+“It is real money, after all!” cried the man; “for not a single piece
+has disappeared.”
+
+When the woman went to the brook that day she looked for the beetle,
+and, sure enough, there he sat upon the flat stone.
+
+“Are you happy now?” asked the beetle, as the woman paused before him.
+
+“We are very unhappy,” she answered; “for, although you have given us
+much gold, our good parson says it surely belongs to some one else, and
+was stolen by you to reward us.”
+
+“Your parson may be a good man,” returned the beetle, with some
+indignation, “but he certainly is not overwise. Nevertheless, if you do
+not want the gold I can take it from you as easily as I gave it.”
+
+“But we do want it!” cried the woman, fearfully. “That is,” she added,
+“if it is honestly come by.”
+
+“It is not stolen,” replied the beetle, sulkily, “and now belongs to no
+one but yourselves. When you saved my life I thought how I might reward
+you; and, knowing you to be poor, I decided gold would make you happier
+than anything else.
+
+“You must know,” he continued, “that although I appear so small and
+insignificant, I am really king of all the insects, and my people obey
+my slightest wish. Living, as they do, close to the ground, the insects
+often come across gold and other pieces of money which have been lost
+by men and have fallen into cracks or crevasses or become covered with
+earth or hidden by grass or weeds. Whenever my people find money in
+this way they report the fact to me; but I have always let it lie,
+because it could be of no possible use to an insect.
+
+“However, when I decided to give you gold I knew just where to obtain
+it without robbing any of your fellow creatures. Thousands of insects
+were at once sent by me in every direction to bring the pieces of lost
+gold to this hill. It cost my people several days of hard labor, as you
+may suppose; but by the time your husband had finished the well the
+gold began to arrive from all parts of the country, and during the
+night my subjects dumped it all into the well. So you may use it with a
+clear conscience, knowing that you wrong no one.”
+
+This explanation delighted the woman, and when she returned to the
+house and reported to her husband what the beetle had said he also was
+overjoyed.
+
+So they at once took a number of the gold pieces and went to the town
+to purchase provisions and clothing and many things of which they had
+long stood in need; but so proud were they of their newly acquired
+wealth that they took no pains to conceal it. They wanted everyone to
+know they had money, and so it was no wonder that when some of the
+wicked men in the village saw the gold they longed to possess it
+themselves.
+
+“If they spend this money so freely,” whispered one to another, “there
+must be a great store of gold at their home.”
+
+“That is true,” was the answer. “Let us hasten there before they return
+and ransack the house.”
+
+So they left the village and hurried away to the farm on the hill,
+where they broke down the door and turned everything topsy turvy until
+they had discovered the gold in the wood-box and the teapot. It did not
+take them long to make this into bundles, which they slung upon their
+backs and carried off, and it was probably because they were in a great
+hurry that they did not stop to put the house in order again.
+
+Presently the good woman and her husband came up the hill from the
+village with their arms full of bundles and followed by a crowd of
+small boys who had been hired to help carry the purchases. Then
+followed others, youngsters and country louts, attracted by the wealth
+and prodigality of the pair, who, from simple curiosity, trailed along
+behind like the tail of a comet and helped swell the concourse into a
+triumphal procession. Last of all came Guggins, the shopkeeper,
+carrying with much tenderness a new silk dress which was to be paid for
+when they reached the house, all the money they had taken to the
+village having been lavishly expended.
+
+The farmer, who had formerly been a modest man, was now so swelled with
+pride that he tipped the rim of his hat over his left ear and smoked a
+big cigar that was fast making him ill. His wife strutted along beside
+him like a peacock, enjoying to the full the homage and respect her
+wealth had won from those who formerly deigned not to notice her, and
+glancing from time to time at the admiring procession in the rear.
+
+But, alas for their new-born pride! when they reached the farmhouse
+they found the door broken in, the furniture strewn in all directions
+and their treasure stolen to the very last gold piece.
+
+The crowd grinned and made slighting remarks of a personal nature, and
+Guggins, the shopkeeper, demanded in a loud voice the money for the
+silk dress he had brought.
+
+Then the woman whispered to her husband to run and pump some more gold
+while she kept the crowd quiet, and he obeyed quickly. But after a few
+moments he returned with a white face to tell her the pump was dry, and
+not a gold piece could now be coaxed from the spout.
+
+The procession marched back to the village laughing and jeering at the
+farmer and his wife, who had pretended to be so rich; and some of the
+boys were naughty enough to throw stones at the house from the top of
+the hill. Mr. Guggins carried away his dress after severely scolding
+the woman for deceiving him, and when the couple at last found
+themselves alone their pride had turned to humiliation and their joy to
+bitter grief.
+
+Just before sundown the woman dried her eyes and, having resumed her
+ordinary attire, went to the brook for water. When she came to the flat
+stone she saw the King Beetle sitting upon it.
+
+“The well is dry!” she cried out, angrily.
+
+“Yes,” answered the beetle, calmly, “you have pumped from it all the
+gold my people could find.”
+
+“But we are now ruined,” said the woman, sitting down in the path
+beginning to weep; “for robbers have stolen from us every penny we
+possessed.”
+
+“I’m sorry,” returned the beetle; “but it is your own fault. Had you
+not made so great a show of your wealth no one would have suspected you
+possessed a treasure, or thought to rob you. As it is, you have merely
+lost the gold which others have lost before you. It will probably be
+lost many times more before the world comes to an end.”
+
+“But what are we to do now?” she asked.
+
+“What did you do before I gave you the money?”
+
+“We worked from morning ’til night,” said she.
+
+“Then work still remains for you,” remarked the beetle, composedly; “no
+one will ever try to rob you of that, you may be sure!” And he slid
+from the stone and disappeared for the last time.
+
+
+This story should teach us to accept good fortune with humble hearts
+and to use it with moderation. For, had the farmer and his wife
+resisted the temptation to display their wealth ostentatiously, they
+might have retained it to this very day.
+
+
+
+
+THE DUMMY THAT LIVED
+
+
+In all Fairyland there is no more mischievous a person than
+Tanko-Mankie the Yellow Ryl. He flew through the city one
+afternoon—quite invisible to mortal eyes, but seeing everything
+himself—and noticed a figure of a wax lady standing behind the big
+plate glass window of Mr. Floman’s department store.
+
+The wax lady was beautifully dressed, and extended in her stiff left
+hand was a card bearing the words:
+
+“RARE BARGIN!
+This Stylish Costume
+(Imported from Paris)
+Former Price, $20,
+REDUCED TO ONLY $19.98.”
+
+
+This impressive announcement had drawn before the window a crowd of
+women shoppers, who stood looking at the wax lady with critical eyes.
+
+Tanko-Mankie laughed to himself the low, gurgling little laugh that
+always means mischief. Then he flew close to the wax figure and
+breathed twice upon its forehead.
+
+From that instant the dummy began to live, but so dazed and astonished
+was she at the unexpected sensation that she continued to stand
+stupidly staring at the women outside and holding out the placard as
+before.
+
+The ryl laughed again and flew away. Anyone but Tanko-Mankie would have
+remained to help the wax lady out of the troubles that were sure to
+overtake her; but this naughty elf thought it rare fun to turn the
+inexperienced lady loose in a cold and heartless world and leave her to
+shift for herself.
+
+Fortunately it was almost six o’clock when the dummy first realized
+that she was alive, and before she had collected her new thoughts and
+decided what to do a man came around and drew down all the window
+shades, shutting off the view from the curious shoppers.
+
+Then the clerks and cashiers and floorwalkers and cash girls went home
+and the store was closed for the night, although the sweepers and
+scrubbers remained to clean the floors for the following day.
+
+The window inhabited by the wax lady was boxed in, like a little room,
+one small door being left at the side for the window-trimmer to creep
+in and out of. So the scrubbers never noticed that the dummy, when left
+to herself, dropped the placard to the floor and sat down upon a pile
+of silks to wonder who she was, where she was, and how she happened to
+be alive.
+
+For you must consider, dear reader, that in spite of her size and her
+rich costume, in spite of her pink cheeks and fluffy yellow hair, this
+lady was very young—no older, in reality, than a baby born but half an
+hour. All she knew of the world was contained in the glimpse she had
+secured of the busy street facing her window; all she knew of people
+lay in the actions of the group of women which had stood before her on
+the other side of the window pane and criticised the fit of her dress
+or remarked upon its stylish appearance.
+
+So she had little enough to think about, and her thoughts moved
+somewhat slowly; yet one thing she really decided upon, and that was
+not to remain in the window and be insolently stared at by a lot of
+women who were not nearly so handsome or well dressed as herself.
+
+By the time she reached this important conclusion, it was after
+midnight; but dim lights were burning in the big, deserted store, so
+she crept through the door of her window and walked down the long
+aisles, pausing now and then to look with much curiosity at the wealth
+of finery confronting her on every side.
+
+When she came to the glass cases filled with trimmed hats she
+remembered having seen upon the heads of the women in the street
+similar creations. So she selected one that suited her fancy and placed
+it carefully upon her yellow locks. I won’t attempt to explain what
+instinct it was that made her glance into a near-by mirror to see if
+the hat was straight, but this she certainly did. It didn’t correspond
+with her dress very well, but the poor thing was too young to have much
+taste in matching colors.
+
+When she reached the glove counter she remembered that gloves were also
+worn by the women she had seen. She took a pair from the case and tried
+to fit them upon her stiff, wax-coated fingers; but the gloves were too
+small and ripped in the seams. Then she tried another pair, and several
+others, as well; but hours passed before she finally succeeded in
+getting her hands covered with a pair of pea-green kids.
+
+Next she selected a parasol from a large and varied assortment in the
+rear of the store. Not that she had any idea what it was used for; but
+other ladies carried such things, so she also would have one.
+
+When she again examined herself critically in the mirror she decided
+her outfit was now complete, and to her inexperienced eyes there was no
+perceptible difference between her and the women who had stood outside
+the window. Whereupon she tried to leave the store, but found every
+door fast locked.
+
+The wax lady was in no hurry. She inherited patience from her previous
+existence. Just to be alive and to wear beautiful clothes was
+sufficient enjoyment for her at present. So she sat down upon a stool
+and waited quietly until daylight.
+
+When the janitor unlocked the door in the morning the wax lady swept
+past him and walked with stiff but stately strides down the street. The
+poor fellow was so completely whuckered at seeing the well-known wax
+lady leave her window and march away from the store that he fell over
+in a heap and only saved himself from fainting by striking his funny
+bone against the doorstep. When he recovered his wits she had turned
+the corner and disappeared.
+
+The wax lady’s immature mind had reasoned that, since she had come to
+life, her evident duty was to mix with the world and do whatever other
+folks did. She could not realize how different she was from people of
+flesh and blood; nor did she know she was the first dummy that had ever
+lived, or that she owed her unique experience to Tanko-Mankie’s love of
+mischief. So ignorance gave her a confidence in herself that she was
+not justly entitled to.
+
+It was yet early in the day, and the few people she met were hurrying
+along the streets. Many of them turned into restaurants and eating
+houses, and following their example the wax lady also entered one and
+sat upon a stool before a lunch counter.
+
+“Coffee ’n’ rolls!” said a shop girl on the next stool.
+
+“Coffee ’n’ rolls!” repeated the dummy, and soon the waiter placed them
+before her. Of course she had no appetite, as her constitution, being
+mostly wood, did not require food; but she watched the shop girl, and
+saw her put the coffee to her mouth and drink it. Therefore the wax
+lady did the same, and the next instant was surprised to feel the hot
+liquid trickling out between her wooden ribs. The coffee also blistered
+her wax lips, and so disagreeable was the experience that she arose and
+left the restaurant, paying no attention to the demands of the waiter
+for “20 cents, mum.” Not that she intended to defraud him, but the poor
+creature had no idea what he meant by “20 cents, mum.”
+
+As she came out she met the window trimmer at Floman’s store. The man
+was rather near-sighted, but seeing something familiar in the lady’s
+features he politely raised his hat. The wax lady also raised her hat,
+thinking it the proper thing to do, and the man hurried away with a
+horrified face.
+
+Then a woman touched her arm and said:
+
+“Beg pardon, ma’am; but there’s a price-mark hanging on your dress
+behind.”
+
+“Yes, I know,” replied the wax lady, stiffly; “it was originally $20,
+but it’s been reduced to $19.98.”
+
+The woman looked surprised at such indifference and walked on. Some
+carriages were standing at the edge of the sidewalk, and seeing the
+dummy hesitate a driver approached her and touched his cap.
+
+“Cab, ma’am?” he asked.
+
+“No,” said she, misunderstanding him; “I’m wax.”
+
+“Oh!” he exclaimed, and looked after her wonderingly.
+
+“Here’s yer mornin’ paper!” yelled a newsboy.
+
+“Mine, did you say?” she asked.
+
+“Sure! Chronicle, ’Quirer, R’public ’n’ ’Spatch! Wot’ll ye ’ave?”
+
+“What are they for?” inquired the wax lady, simply.
+
+“W’y, ter read, o’ course. All the news, you know.”
+
+She shook her head and glanced at a paper.
+
+“It looks all speckled and mixed up,” she said. “I’m afraid I can’t
+read.”
+
+“Ever ben to school?” asked the boy, becoming interested.
+
+“No; what’s school?” she inquired.
+
+The boy gave her an indignant look.
+
+“Say!” he cried, “ye’r just a dummy, that’s wot ye are!” and ran away
+to seek a more promising customer.
+
+“I wonder that he means,” thought the poor lady. “Am I really different
+in some way from all the others? I look like them, certainly; and I try
+to act like them; yet that boy called me a dummy and seemed to think I
+acted queerly.”
+
+This idea worried her a little, but she walked on to the corner, where
+she noticed a street car stop to let some people on. The wax lady,
+still determined to do as others did, also boarded the car and sat down
+quietly in a corner.
+
+After riding a few blocks the conductor approached her and said:
+
+“Fare, please!”
+
+“What’s that?” she inquired, innocently.
+
+“Your fare!” said the man, impatiently.
+
+She stared at him stupidly, trying to think what he meant.
+
+“Come, come!” growled the conductor, “either pay up or get off!”
+
+Still she did not understand, and he grabbed her rudely by the arm and
+lifted her to her feet. But when his hand came in contact with the hard
+wood of which her arm was made the fellow was filled with surprise. He
+stooped down and peered into her face, and, seeing it was wax instead
+of flesh, he gave a yell of fear and jumped from the car, running as if
+he had seen a ghost.
+
+At this the other passengers also yelled and sprang from the car,
+fearing a collision; and the motorman, knowing something was wrong,
+followed suit. The wax lady, seeing the others run, jumped from the car
+last of all, and stepped in front of another car coming at full speed
+from the opposite direction.
+
+She heard cries of fear and of warning on all sides, but before she
+understood her danger she was knocked down and dragged for half a
+block.
+
+When the car was brought to a stop a policeman reached down and pulled
+her from under the wheels. Her dress was badly torn and soiled. Her
+left ear was entirely gone, and the left side of her head was caved in;
+but she quickly scrambled to her feet and asked for her hat. This a
+gentleman had already picked up, and when the policeman handed it to
+her and noticed the great hole in her head and the hollow place it
+disclosed, the poor fellow trembled so frightfully that his knees
+actually knocked together.
+
+“Why—why, ma’am, you’re killed!” he gasped.
+
+“What does it mean to be killed?” asked the wax lady.
+
+The policeman shuddered and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
+
+“You’re it!” he answered, with a groan.
+
+The crowd that had collected were looking upon the lady wonderingly,
+and a middle-aged gentleman now exclaimed:
+
+“Why, she’s wax!”
+
+“Wax!” echoed the policeman.
+
+“Certainly. She’s one of those dummies they put in the windows,”
+declared the middle-aged man.
+
+The people who had collected shouted: “You’re right!” “That’s what she
+is!” “She’s a dummy!”
+
+“Are you?” inquired the policeman, sternly.
+
+The wax lady did not reply. She began to fear she was getting into
+trouble, and the staring crowd seemed to embarrass her.
+
+Suddenly a bootblack attempted to solve the problem by saying: “You
+guys is all wrong! Can a dummy talk? Can a dummy walk? Can a dummy
+live?”
+
+“Hush!” murmured the policeman. “Look here!” and he pointed to the hole
+in the lady’s head. The newsboy looked, turned pale and whistled to
+keep himself from shivering.
+
+A second policeman now arrived, and after a brief conference it was
+decided to take the strange creature to headquarters. So they called a
+hurry-up wagon, and the damaged wax lady was helped inside and driven
+to the police station. There the policeman locked her in a cell and
+hastened to tell Inspector Mugg their wonderful story.
+
+Inspector Mugg had just eaten a poor breakfast, and was not in a
+pleasant mood; so he roared and stormed at the unlucky policemen,
+saying they were themselves dummies to bring such a fairy tale to a man
+of sense. He also hinted that they had been guilty of intemperance.
+
+The policemen tried to explain, but Inspector Mugg would not listen;
+and while they were still disputing in rushed Mr. Floman, the owner of
+the department store.
+
+“I want a dozen detectives, at once, inspector!” he cried.
+
+“What for?” demanded Mugg.
+
+“One of the wax ladies has escaped from my store and eloped with a
+$19.98 costume, a $4.23 hat, a $2.19 parasol and a 76-cent pair of
+gloves, and I want her arrested!”
+
+While he paused for breath the inspector glared at him in amazement.
+
+“Is everybody going crazy at the same time?” he inquired,
+sarcastically. “How could a wax dummy run away?”
+
+“I don’t know; but she did. When my janitor opened the door this
+morning he saw her run out.”
+
+“Why didn’t he stop her?” asked Mugg.
+
+“He was too frightened. But she’s stolen my property, your honor, and I
+want her arrested!” declared the storekeeper.
+
+The inspector thought for a moment.
+
+“You wouldn’t be able to prosecute her,” he said, “for there’s no law
+against dummies stealing.”
+
+Mr. Floman sighed bitterly.
+
+“Am I to lose that $19.98 costume and the $4.25 hat and—”
+
+“By no means,” interrupted Inspector Mugg. “The police of this city are
+ever prompt to act in defense of our worthy citizens. We have already
+arrested the wax lady, and she is locked up in cell No. 16. You may go
+there and recover your property, if you wish, but before you prosecute
+her for stealing you’d better hunt up a law that applies to dummies.”
+
+“All I want,” said Mr. Floman, “is that $19.98 costume and—”
+
+“Come along!” interrupted the policeman. “I’ll take you to the cell.”
+
+But when they entered No. 16 they found only a lifeless dummy lying
+prone upon the floor. Its wax was cracked and blistered, its head was
+badly damaged, and the bargain costume was dusty, soiled and much
+bedraggled. For the mischief-loving Tanko-Mankie had flown by and
+breathed once more upon the poor wax lady, and in that instant her
+brief life ended.
+
+“It’s just as I thought,” said Inspector Mugg, leaning back in his
+chair contentedly. “I knew all the time the thing was a fake. It seems
+sometimes as though the whole world would go crazy if there wasn’t some
+level-headed man around to bring ’em to their senses. Dummies are wood
+an’ wax, an’ that’s all there is of ’em.”
+
+“That may be the rule,” whispered the policeman to himself, “but this
+one were a dummy as lived!”
+
+
+
+
+THE KING OF THE POLAR BEARS
+
+
+The King of the Polar Bears lived among the icebergs in the far north
+country. He was old and monstrous big; he was wise and friendly to all
+who knew him. His body was thickly covered with long, white hair that
+glistened like silver under the rays of the midnight sun. His claws
+were strong and sharp, that he might walk safely over the smooth ice or
+grasp and tear the fishes and seals upon which he fed.
+
+The seals were afraid when he drew near, and tried to avoid him; but
+the gulls, both white and gray, loved him because he left the remnants
+of his feasts for them to devour.
+
+Often his subjects, the polar bears, came to him for advice when ill or
+in trouble; but they wisely kept away from his hunting grounds, lest
+they might interfere with his sport and arouse his anger.
+
+The wolves, who sometimes came as far north as the icebergs, whispered
+among themselves that the King of the Polar Bears was either a magician
+or under the protection of a powerful fairy. For no earthly thing
+seemed able to harm him; he never failed to secure plenty of food, and
+he grew bigger and stronger day by day and year by year.
+
+Yet the time came when this monarch of the north met man, and his
+wisdom failed him.
+
+He came out of his cave among the icebergs one day and saw a boat
+moving through the strip of water which had been uncovered by the
+shifting of the summer ice. In the boat were men.
+
+The great bear had never seen such creatures before, and therefore
+advanced toward the boat, sniffing the strange scent with aroused
+curiosity and wondering whether he might take them for friends or foes,
+food or carrion.
+
+When the king came near the water’s edge a man stood up in the boat and
+with a queer instrument made a loud “bang!” The polar bear felt a
+shock; his brain became numb; his thoughts deserted him; his great
+limbs shook and gave way beneath him and his body fell heavily upon the
+hard ice.
+
+That was all he remembered for a time.
+
+When he awoke he was smarting with pain on every inch of his huge bulk,
+for the men had cut away his hide with its glorious white hair and
+carried it with them to a distant ship.
+
+Above him circled thousands of his friends the gulls, wondering if
+their benefactor were really dead and it was proper to eat him. But
+when they saw him raise his head and groan and tremble they knew he
+still lived, and one of them said to his comrades:
+
+“The wolves were right. The king is a great magician, for even men
+cannot kill him. But he suffers for lack of covering. Let us repay his
+kindness to us by each giving him as many feathers as we can spare.”
+
+This idea pleased the gulls. One after another they plucked with their
+beaks the softest feathers from under their wings, and, flying down,
+dropped then gently upon the body of the King of the Polar Bears.
+
+Then they called to him in a chorus:
+
+“Courage, friend! Our feathers are as soft and beautiful as your own
+shaggy hair. They will guard you from the cold winds and warm you while
+you sleep. Have courage, then, and live!”
+
+And the King of the Polar Bears had courage to bear his pain and lived
+and was strong again.
+
+The feathers grew as they had grown upon the bodies of the birds and
+covered him as his own hair had done. Mostly they were pure white in
+color, but some from the gray gulls gave his majesty a slight mottled
+appearance.
+
+The rest of that summer and all through the six months of night the
+king left his icy cavern only to fish or catch seals for food. He felt
+no shame at his feathery covering, but it was still strange to him, and
+he avoided meeting any of his brother bears.
+
+During this period of retirement he thought much of the men who had
+harmed him, and remembered the way they had made the great “bang!” And
+he decided it was best to keep away from such fierce creatures. Thus he
+added to his store of wisdom.
+
+When the moon fell away from the sky and the sun came to make the
+icebergs glitter with the gorgeous tintings of the rainbow, two of the
+polar bears arrived at the king’s cavern to ask his advice about the
+hunting season. But when they saw his great body covered with feathers
+instead of hair they began to laugh, and one said:
+
+“Our mighty king has become a bird! Who ever before heard of a
+feathered polar bear?”
+
+Then the king gave way to wrath. He advanced upon them with deep growls
+and stately tread and with one blow of his monstrous paw stretched the
+mocker lifeless at his feet.
+
+The other ran away to his fellows and carried the news of the king’s
+strange appearance. The result was a meeting of all the polar bears
+upon a broad field of ice, where they talked gravely of the remarkable
+change that had come upon their monarch.
+
+“He is, in reality, no longer a bear,” said one; “nor can he justly be
+called a bird. But he is half bird and half bear, and so unfitted to
+remain our king.”
+
+“Then who shall take his place?” asked another.
+
+“He who can fight the bird-bear and overcome him,” answered an aged
+member of the group. “Only the strongest is fit to rule our race.”
+
+There was silence for a time, but at length a great bear moved to the
+front and said:
+
+“I will fight him; I—Woof—the strongest of our race! And I will be King
+of the Polar Bears.”
+
+The others nodded assent, and dispatched a messenger to the king to say
+he must fight the great Woof and master him or resign his sovereignty.
+
+“For a bear with feathers,” added the messenger, “is no bear at all,
+and the king we obey must resemble the rest of us.”
+
+“I wear feathers because it pleases me,” growled the king. “Am I not a
+great magician? But I will fight, nevertheless, and if Woof masters me
+he shall be king in my stead.”
+
+Then he visited his friends, the gulls, who were even then feasting
+upon the dead bear, and told them of the coming battle.
+
+“I shall conquer,” he said, proudly. “Yet my people are in the right,
+for only a hairy one like themselves can hope to command their
+obedience.”
+
+The queen gull said:
+
+“I met an eagle yesterday, which had made its escape from a big city of
+men. And the eagle told me he had seen a monstrous polar bear skin
+thrown over the back of a carriage that rolled along the street. That
+skin must have been yours, oh king, and if you wish I will sent an
+hundred of my gulls to the city to bring it back to you.”
+
+“Let them go!” said the king, gruffly. And the hundred gulls were soon
+flying rapidly southward.
+
+For three days they flew straight as an arrow, until they came to
+scattered houses, to villages, and to cities. Then their search began.
+
+The gulls were brave, and cunning, and wise. Upon the fourth day they
+reached the great metropolis, and hovered over the streets until a
+carriage rolled along with a great white bear robe thrown over the back
+seat. Then the birds swooped down—the whole hundred of them—and seizing
+the skin in their beaks flew quickly away.
+
+They were late. The king’s great battle was upon the seventh day, and
+they must fly swiftly to reach the Polar regions by that time.
+
+Meanwhile the bird-bear was preparing for his fight. He sharpened his
+claws in the small crevasses of the ice. He caught a seal and tested
+his big yellow teeth by crunching its bones between them. And the queen
+gull set her band to pluming the king bear’s feathers until they lay
+smoothly upon his body.
+
+But every day they cast anxious glances into the southern sky, watching
+for the hundred gulls to bring back the king’s own skin.
+
+The seventh day came, and all the Polar bears in that region gathered
+around the king’s cavern. Among them was Woof, strong and confident of
+his success.
+
+“The bird-bear’s feathers will fly fast enough when I get my claws upon
+him!” he boasted; and the others laughed and encouraged him.
+
+The king was disappointed at not having recovered his skin, but he
+resolved to fight bravely without it. He advanced from the opening of
+his cavern with a proud and kingly bearing, and when he faced his enemy
+he gave so terrible a growl that Woof’s heart stopped beating for a
+moment, and he began to realize that a fight with the wise and mighty
+king of his race was no laughing matter.
+
+After exchanging one or two heavy blows with his foe Woof’s courage
+returned, and he determined to dishearten his adversary by bluster.
+
+“Come nearer, bird-bear!” he cried. “Come nearer, that I may pluck your
+plumage!”
+
+The defiance filled the king with rage. He ruffled his feathers as a
+bird does, till he appeared to be twice his actual size, and then he
+strode forward and struck Woof so powerful a blow that his skull
+crackled like an egg-shell and he fell prone upon the ground.
+
+While the assembled bears stood looking with fear and wonder at their
+fallen champion the sky became darkened.
+
+An hundred gulls flew down from above and dripped upon the king’s body
+a skin covered with pure white hair that glittered in the sun like
+silver.
+
+And behold! the bears saw before them the well-known form of their wise
+and respected master, and with one accord they bowed their shaggy heads
+in homage to the mighty King of the Polar Bears.
+
+
+This story teaches us that true dignity and courage depend not upon
+outward appearance, but come rather from within; also that brag and
+bluster are poor weapons to carry into battle.
+
+
+
+
+THE MANDARIN AND THE BUTTERFLY
+
+
+A mandarin once lived in Kiang-ho who was so exceedingly cross and
+disagreeable that everyone hated him. He snarled and stormed at every
+person he met and was never known to laugh or be merry under any
+circumstances. Especially he hated boys and girls; for the boys jeered
+at him, which aroused his wrath, and the girls made fun of him, which
+hurt his pride.
+
+When he had become so unpopular that no one would speak to him, the
+emperor heard about it and commanded him to emigrate to America. This
+suited the mandarin very well; but before he left China he stole the
+Great Book of Magic that belonged to the wise magician Haot-sai. Then,
+gathering up his little store of money, he took ship for America.
+
+He settled in a city of the middle west and of course started a
+laundry, since that seems to be the natural vocation of every Chinaman,
+be he coolie or mandarin.
+
+He made no acquaintances with the other Chinamen of the town, who, when
+they met him and saw the red button in his hat, knew him for a real
+mandarin and bowed low before him. He put up a red and white sign and
+people brought their laundry to him and got paper checks, with Chinese
+characters upon them, in exchange, this being the only sort of
+character the mandarin had left.
+
+One day as the ugly one was ironing in his shop in the basement of 263
+1/2 Main street, he looked up and saw a crowd of childish faces pressed
+against the window. Most Chinamen make friends with children; this one
+hated them and tried to drive them away. But as soon as he returned to
+his work they were back at the window again, mischievously smiling down
+upon him.
+
+The naughty mandarin uttered horrid words in the Manchu language and
+made fierce gestures; but this did no good at all. The children stayed
+as long as they pleased, and they came again the very next day as soon
+as school was over, and likewise the next day, and the next. For they
+saw their presence at the window bothered the Chinaman and were
+delighted accordingly.
+
+The following day being Sunday the children did not appear, but as the
+mandarin, being a heathen, worked in his little shop a big butterfly
+flew in at the open door and fluttered about the room.
+
+The mandarin closed the door and chased the butterfly until he caught
+it, when he pinned it against the wall by sticking two pins through its
+beautiful wings. This did not hurt the butterfly, there being no
+feeling in its wings; but it made him a safe prisoner.
+
+This butterfly was of large size and its wings were exquisitely marked
+by gorgeous colors laid out in regular designs like the stained glass
+windows of a cathedral.
+
+The mandarin now opened his wooden chest and drew forth the Great Book
+of Magic he had stolen from Haot-sai. Turning the pages slowly he came
+to a passage describing “How to understand the language of
+butterflies.” This he read carefully and then mixed a magic formula in
+a tin cup and drank it down with a wry face. Immediately thereafter he
+spoke to the butterfly in its own language, saying:
+
+“Why did you enter this room?”
+
+“I smelled bees-wax,” answered the butterfly; “therefore I thought I
+might find honey here.”
+
+“But you are my prisoner,” said the mandarin. “If I please I can kill
+you, or leave you on the wall to starve to death.”
+
+“I expect that,” replied the butterfly, with a sigh. “But my race is
+shortlived, anyway; it doesn’t matter whether death comes sooner or
+later.”
+
+“Yet you like to live, do you not?” asked the mandarin.
+
+“Yet; life is pleasant and the world is beautiful. I do not seek
+death.”
+
+“Then,” said the mandarin, “I will give you life—a long and pleasant
+life—if you will promise to obey me for a time and carry out my
+instructions.”
+
+“How can a butterfly serve a man?” asked the creature, in surprise.
+
+“Usually they cannot,” was the reply. “But I have a book of magic which
+teaches me strange things. Do you promise?”
+
+“Oh, yes; I promise,” answered the butterfly; “for even as your slave I
+will get some enjoyment out of life, while should you kill me—that is
+the end of everything!”
+
+“Truly,” said the mandarin, “butterflies have no souls, and therefore
+cannot live again.”
+
+“But I have enjoyed three lives already,” returned the butterfly, with
+some pride. “I have been a caterpillar and a chrysalis before I became
+a butterfly. You were never anything but a Chinaman, although I admit
+your life is longer than mine.”
+
+“I will extend your life for many days, if you will obey me,” declared
+the Chinaman. “I can easily do so by means of my magic.”
+
+“Of course I will obey you,” said the butterfly, carelessly.
+
+“Then, listen! You know children, do you not?—boys and girls?”
+
+“Yes, I know them. They chase me, and try to catch me, as you have
+done,” replied the butterfly.
+
+“And they mock me, and jeer at me through the window,” continued the
+mandarin, bitterly. “Therefore, they are your enemies and mine! But
+with your aid and the help of the magic book we shall have a fine
+revenge for their insults.”
+
+“I don’t care much for revenge,” said the butterfly. “They are but
+children, and ’tis natural they should wish to catch such a beautiful
+creature as I am.”
+
+“Nevertheless, I care! and you must obey me,” retorted the mandarin,
+harshly. “I, at least, will have my revenge.”
+
+Then he stuck a drop of molasses upon the wall beside the butterfly’s
+head and said:
+
+“Eat that, while I read my book and prepare my magic formula.”
+
+So the butterfly feasted upon the molasses and the mandarin studied his
+book, after which he began to mix a magic compound in the tin cup.
+
+When the mixture was ready he released the butterfly from the wall and
+said to it:
+
+“I command you to dip your two front feet into this magic compound and
+then fly away until you meet a child. Fly close, whether it be a boy or
+a girl, and touch the child upon its forehead with your feet. Whosoever
+is thus touched, the book declares, will at once become a pig, and will
+remain such forever after. Then return to me and dip your legs afresh
+in the contents of this cup. So shall all my enemies, the children,
+become miserable swine, while no one will think of accusing me of the
+sorcery.”
+
+“Very well; since such is your command, I obey,” said the butterfly.
+Then it dipped its front legs, which were the shortest of the six, into
+the contents of the tin cup, and flew out of the door and away over the
+houses to the edge of the town. There it alighted in a flower garden
+and soon forgot all about its mission to turn children into swine.
+
+In going from flower to flower it soon brushed the magic compound from
+its legs, so that when the sun began to set and the butterfly finally
+remembered its master, the mandarin, it could not have injured a child
+had it tried.
+
+But it did not intend to try.
+
+“That horrid old Chinaman,” it thought, “hates children and wishes to
+destroy them. But I rather like children myself and shall not harm
+them. Of course I must return to my master, for he is a magician, and
+would seek me out and kill me; but I can deceive him about this matter
+easily enough.”
+
+When the butterfly flew in at the door of the mandarin’s laundry he
+asked, eagerly:
+
+“Well, did you meet a child?”
+
+“I did,” replied the butterfly, calmly. “It was a pretty, golden-haired
+girl—but now ’tis a grunting pig!”
+
+“Good! Good! Good!” cried the mandarin, dancing joyfully about the
+room. “You shall have molasses for your supper, and to-morrow you must
+change two children into pigs.”
+
+The butterfly did not reply, but ate the molasses in silence. Having no
+soul it had no conscience, and having no conscience it was able to lie
+to the mandarin with great readiness and a certain amount of enjoyment.
+
+Next morning, by the mandarin’s command, the butterfly dipped its legs
+in the mixture and flew away in search of children.
+
+When it came to the edge of the town it noticed a pig in a sty, and
+alighting upon the rail of the sty it looked down at the creature and
+thought.
+
+“If I could change a child into a pig by touching it with the magic
+compound, what could I change a pig into, I wonder?”
+
+Being curious to determine this fine point in sorcery the butterfly
+fluttered down and touched its front feet to the pig’s nose. Instantly
+the animal disappeared, and in its place was a shock-headed, dirty
+looking boy, which sprang from the sty and ran down the road uttering
+load whoops.
+
+“That’s funny,” said the butterfly to itself. “The mandarin would be
+very angry with me if he knew of this, for I have liberated one more of
+the creatures that bother him.”
+
+It fluttered along after the boy, who had paused to throw stones at a
+cat. But pussy escaped by running up a tree, where thick branches
+protected her from the stones. Then the boy discovered a newly-planted
+garden, and trampled upon the beds until the seeds were scattered far
+and wide, and the garden was ruined. Next he caught up a switch and
+struck with it a young calf that stood quietly grazing in a field. The
+poor creature ran away with piteous bleats, and the boy laughed and
+followed after it, striking the frightened animal again and again.
+
+“Really,” thought the butterfly, “I do not wonder the mandarin hates
+children, if they are all so cruel and wicked as this one.”
+
+The calf having escaped him the boy came back to the road, where he met
+two little girls on their way to school. One of them had a red apple in
+her hand, and the boy snatched it away and began eating it. The little
+girl commenced to cry, but her companion, more brave and sturdy, cried
+out:
+
+“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you nasty boy!”
+
+At this the boy reached out and slapped her pretty face, whereupon she
+also began to sob.
+
+Although possessed of neither soul nor conscience, the butterfly had a
+very tender heart, and now decided it could endure this boy no longer.
+
+“If I permitted him to exist,” it reflected, “I should never forgive
+myself, for the monster would do nothing but evil from morning ’til
+night.”
+
+So it flew directly into his face and touched his forehead with its
+sticky front feet.
+
+The next instant the boy had disappeared, but a grunting pig ran
+swiftly up the road in the direction of its sty.
+
+The butterfly gave a sigh of relief.
+
+“This time I have indeed used the mandarin’s magic upon a child,” it
+whispered, as it floated lazily upon the light breeze; “but since the
+child was originally a pig I do not think I have any cause to reproach
+myself. The little girls were sweet and gentle, and I would not injure
+them to save my life, but were all boys like this transformed pig, I
+should not hesitate to carry out the mandarin’s orders.”
+
+Then it flew into a rose bush, where it remained comfortably until
+evening. At sundown it returned to its master.
+
+“Have you changed two of them into pigs?” he asked, at once.
+
+“I have,” replied the butterfly. “One was a pretty, black-eyed baby,
+and the other a freckle-faced, red-haired, barefooted newboy.”
+
+“Good! Good! Good!” screamed the mandarin, in an ecstasy of delight.
+“Those are the ones who torment me the most! Change every newboy you
+meet into a pig!”
+
+“Very well,” answered the butterfly, quietly, and ate its supper of
+molasses.
+
+Several days were passed by the butterfly in the same manner. It
+fluttered aimlessly about the flower gardens while the sun shone, and
+returned at night to the mandarin with false tales of turning children
+into swine. Sometimes it would be one child which was transformed,
+sometimes two, and occasionally three; but the mandarin always greeted
+the butterfly’s report with intense delight and gave him molasses for
+supper.
+
+One evening, however, the butterfly thought it might be well to vary
+the report, so that the mandarin might not grow suspicious; and when
+its master asked what child had been had been changed into a pig that
+day the lying creature answered:
+
+“It was a Chinese boy, and when I touched him he became a black pig.”
+
+This angered the mandarin, who was in an especially cross mood. He
+spitefully snapped the butterfly with his finger, and nearly broke its
+beautiful wing; for he forgot that Chinese boys had once mocked him and
+only remembered his hatred for American boys.
+
+The butterfly became very indignant at this abuse from the mandarin. It
+refused to eat its molasses and sulked all the evening, for it had
+grown to hate the mandarin almost as much as the mandarin hated
+children.
+
+When morning came it was still trembling with indignation; but the
+mandarin cried out:
+
+“Make haste, miserable slave; for to-day you must change four children
+into pigs, to make up for yesterday.”
+
+The butterfly did not reply. His little black eyes were sparkling
+wickedly, and no sooner had he dipped his feet into the magic compound
+than he flew full in the mandarin’s face, and touched him upon his
+ugly, flat forehead.
+
+Soon after a gentleman came into the room for his laundry. The mandarin
+was not there, but running around the place was a repulsive, scrawny
+pig, which squealed most miserably.
+
+The butterfly flew away to a brook and washed from its feet all traces
+of the magic compound. When night came it slept in a rose bush.
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN FAIRY TALES ***
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